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GRANDMA ELLIOT’S 
FARMHOUSE: 


A Story for Girls and Boys. 


BY 

MARY E. IRELAND, 

Translator of "■The First School Year^' '•'•The Shepherd' s Fa7nily," 
'•'•The Siberian Exile'' ‘■'•Adolph's Victories," '•'•Christian 
Beck's Grafidson," “In F'air Silesia" '•'•'The School 
on Luneburg Heath" '•'•Driven Out" Etc. 




RICHMOND, VA.: 

The Presbyterian Committee of Publication. 



Copyrighted 


BY 

JAS. K. HAZEN, Secretary of Publication, 

1900. 


« t » 

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Printed by 

Whittet & Shepperson, 

Richmond, Va. 


TifV, !j>>AXA.rv'val» 


TO 


HER DEAR LITTLE GRANDSON, 

GEORGE HOWARD IRELAND, 

THIS STORY FOR LITTLE PEOPLE, 

WRITTEN AS A COMPANION TO “ThE FiRST SCHOOL YeAR,” 
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
BY 

THE AUTHOR. 




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COlsTTEIfTS. 


Page. 

Gbeeting to all Sunday-School Pupils, . . 7 

CHAPTER I. 

Good News, ....... 11 

CHAPTER II. 

An Unintended Visit, 18 

CHAPTER HI. 

By His Grandfather’s Hearth, ... 34 

CHAPTER lY. 

Off to the Country, . . . . , 45 

CHAPTER V. 

In the Wagon, ...... 60 

CHAPTER VI. 

Grandma Organizes an H. H. Society, . . 72 

CHAPTER VII. 

Several Young Heroes, 88 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER VIII. PAGE. 

Leo in the Country, . . . . .104 

CHAPTER IX. 

Sally’s Holiday, 117 

CHAPTER X. 

Why Elmer Ware was Chosen, . . . 128 

CHAPTER XL 

Grandfather Forester’s Lesson, . . .143 


CHAPTER XII. 

Why Horace Changed His Opinion, 


151 


GREETING 


TO ALL SUNDAY-SCHOOL PUPILS. 


As a teacher, I greet you, dear youthful friends, 
Whether here or beyond the blue sea ; 

And that you may always be happy as now, 

I give in this greeting the key : 

“It is duty to God, and good will to men; ” 

Then each day will a happy day be. 

Your Superintendents are leaders indeed, 

In all that is good and true ; 

Your love and respect you should give them, dear ones. 
For this is most truly their due : 

As schools you are blest in having such friends, 

They are priceless in worth to you. 

The good seed they sow will spring into life. 

Though now perhaps overtrod. 

Or seemingly lost in a desert place. 

Or choked by tares, or hidden in sod. 

It will live through the ages, and still bear fruit. 

When they have gone home to God. 

For, as fogs disperse when the clear sun shines. 

So time to your memory will bring. 

The lessons you thoughtlessly hear to-day. 

The hymns which each Sabbath you sing ; 

And thinking of comrades who shared with you then, 
The tears to your eyes may spring. 


8 


Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 


When out in the world you go, dear ones, 

To join in its toil and strife, 

You will look back on hours you passed in your school 
As the sweetest and .best of your life ; 

And will gratefully feel that the knowledge gained there 
Is your armor when tumult is rife. 

To the North and the South, the East and the West, 
Your eager young feet will soon run ; 

For we are but pilgrims, and ever will be, 

Until life’s race be done ; 

And we lie with still and folded hands. 

Our rest forever won. 

In after years, when with voice or pen. 

You are leaders in church or state, 

On the side of the right, which may not be might. 

With conscience clear may you wait ; 

And our triumph will be that you are enrolled 
With the good, if not with the great. 

Of your good work in new and perhaps distant homes. 
The echoes may reach us e’er long ; 

And though echo of music is not the ring 
Of the living, breathing song. 

Yet your teacher’s heart will rejoice to know 
That their precepts are passing on. 

For, Phocnix-like, your new life shall spring, 

From the ashes of the past ; 

New thoughts, new hopes, new energies. 

Will thrill you while life shall last ; 

And to do God’s will may it be your aim, 

Wherever your lot is cast. 


Greeting. 


9 


We teachers will cherish the thought of that past, 
We will keep its memory green ; 

It’s little trials will be our pride, 

Our Jewels of golden sheen, 

When we hear that in duty each boy is a king. 
And every girl a queen. 

And thus in this volume as Preface I give, 

This greeting with heartfelt Joy, 

And pray that the blessing of Peace may be 
Ever yours, and without alloy ; 

And for this may the blessing of God ever rest. 
On every dear girl and dear boy. 


Washington, D. G. 















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GRANDMA ELLIOT’S 
FARMHOUSE. 


CHAPTEE 1. 

GOOD NEWS. 

O H, Sophie ! wait a minute ; I have some- 
thing to tell you ! ” and Ellen Forester, 
having from her window seen her friend, Sophie 
Wilbur, coming down the street, ran out to tell 
her the good news. 

“What is it?” asked Sophie, full of in- 
terest. 

“ I am going to Grandma Eliott’s, in the 
country, and am to go to school there.” 

“ But there will be no school in summer.” 
“Yes, there is to be one for little girls and 
boys, and mamma says it will be a good place 
for me to begin school.” 

Sophie was for a moment too surprised to 
speak, but stood looking at the bright face of 
Ellen. 

“But you always said you were going to 
school with me on our first day, and now you 


12 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

are going away,” slie said, with tears of disap- 
pointment in her pretty blue eyes. 

“ I did not know that I was going to the 
country until mamma told me just now, and oh! 
I am so glad : I always have such nice times 
there.” 

“ But why are you going ? ” asked Sophie, 
who could take no pleasure in this sudden 
change of plans. 

“Because Aunt Lizzie, grandma’s daughter, 
is going away to teach music in a boarding 
school, and I am to go for company for grandma, 
and will go to school where mamma went when 
she was a little girl like me.” 

“I did not think you would be so glad to 
leave me,” said Sophie tearfully; “who said 
for you to come ? ” 

“ Grandma said it in a letter, and mamma 
said that we would go to your house after sup- 
per and tell you all about it ; then I saw you 
coming and ran out to tell you.” 

“ I thought we would have such nice times 
playing school with our dolls,” said Sophie, 
with tears running down her plump cheeks ; 
“ and now I will be so lonely, and we can’t talk 
about school, where we are to go in September, 
when I am to stop for you every morning on 
my way there.” 

“ Let us run in and tell mamma about it ; 


Good News. 


13 


maybe she will write to Grandma Elliot and 
ask her to let you come when we tell her you 
will be lonely without me.” 

Sophie’s tears were chased away, and her 
cheeks grew rosy with hope, as, catching hands, 
they ran in and up the stairs to the nursery, 
where Mrs. Forester sat sewing with the cra- 
dle beside her, in which slept Ellen’s baby 
brother. 

“ Mamma, Sophie says she will be lonely 
without me ; won’t you please write to Grandma 
Elliot and ask her to let Sophie come too and 
go to school with me ? ” cried Ellen the mo- 
ment she caught sight of her. 

Mrs. Forester looked up at the eager, hope- 
ful faces and smiled. “Would Sophie’s aunt 
allow her to go ? ” she asked. 

“Yes, I am sure she would,” replied Sophie 
quickly; “she said this morning that when I 
started to school she would not expect me to be 
of much help to her, to play with the baby and 
take him out in his carriage.” 

“Then I will tell you that in mother’s letter 
this morning she said that if your Aunt Mar- 
garet were willing to have you come, she would 
be glad to have you there with Ellen. She said 
it would be good for you to have a visit to the 
country, and Ellen would be more contented if 
you were with her.” 


14 Grandma Elliotts Farmhouse. 

“Oh! may I run and tell her?” asked 
Sophie. 

“Yes; and tell her that I was coming as 
soon as we finished tea to tell her what mother 
said, and ask her if she would let you go. 
Here is mother’s letter ; you can give it to her 
to read.” 

“Dear mamma, let me go with Sophie and 
help her ask her Aunt Margaret,” said Ellen 
eagerly. 

“Certainly you may; and if she does not 
consent, I hope that Sophie will not vex her by 
fretting at the disappointment. I did not in- 
tend her to know of it until I had seen Mrs. 
Endicott and asked her consent.” 

“ I did not know that, mamma ; you did not 
tell me not to tell Sophie.” 

“ No, I did not think you would see her be- 
fore evening ; but now that she does know it, I 
hope she will be a good girl and not trouble 
her kind aunt.” 

The little girls ran away, and soon reached 
Sophie’s home, only two squares away. To 
the joy of both, Mrs. Endicott gave glad con- 
sent, for she saw the pleasure and benefit a 
summer in the country would be to her orphan 
niece, the only child of a loved sister, who, in 
dying, had given the little girl into her care. 

“ I will miss you, dear,” she said to Sophie, 


Good News. 


15 


“ but I am very grateful to Mrs. Elliot for in- 
viting you to that beautiful home where I loved 
to go when a child. It was only across a 
meadow from the village at Edgermond where 
I lived, and Ellen’s mother and I were school- 
mates and playmates, and have always been 
friends.” 

Ellen and Sophie looked at each other in 
pleased surprise, for in the six years of their 
lives they had not happened to hear that Mrs. 
Forester and Mrs. Endicott had known each 
other all their lives, had played together when 
little children, had their play-house under a 
great shady apple tree in the orchard, and with 
their dolls and bits of broken china and glass, 
kept house through the long summer afternoons. 
Now it seemed almost too good to be true 
that they were to be all the summer together 
there. 

“You are to go on Monday, and this is Wed- 
nesday,” said Mrs. Endicott, looking again at 
the letter. 

“ Yes, grandma’s farmer is coming to town in 
the market wagon, and is to take us back with 
him. Oh, Sophie, won’t it be splendid to ride 
in a great long wagon ? ” 

Sophie clapped her plump little hands with 
delight. “How long will it take us to get to 
your grandmother’s?” she asked. 


16 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

Ellen looked to Mrs. Endicott to answer ; she 
had never heard any one say. 

“ It will take several hours, for it is more than 
thirty miles. It will be quite late in the even- 
ing I think when you reach the farm-house, for 
the one who comes for you will have to let the 
horses feed and rest at noon, and have his din- 
ner before he sets out for Edgermond.” 

“ Did you ever go in a wagon. Aunt Marga- 
ret?” asked Sophie. 

“No, I have never been there but once since 
I left it, and that time your uncle and myself 
went in a carriage.” 

“Don’t you like to go there?” 

“Yes, dear; the village of Edgermond is 
pleasant, and the neighborhood beautiful, but I 
was like yourself an orphan, and lived there 
with my aunt and uncle. He died and my aunt 
went West to live with her son, and I had mar- 
ried and come here to live. I have no relatives 
there now to visit.” 

“ But it will be far nicer to go in a big wagon 
than a carriage,” said Ellen, joyously. 

“Yes, it will be for you little people, for you 
will have more room to stir about. Soon there 
will be a railway from this city past Edger- 
mond, then there will be no need of going in 
either carriage or wagon.” 

“Will you take Matilda?” asked Sophie ear- 
nestly of Ellen. 


Good News. 


17 


“Yes, and Janette and Sylvia; they would 
be lonesome when Matilda was gone.” 

“I will take Sarah Jane, and Amanda, and 
Julia,” said Sophie joyously. “ Come, let us 
tell them we are going to the country.” 

They ran lightly down the steps to the back 
porch, which being enclosed at the ends, made 
a fine place for Sophie’s dolls to live in the 
beautiful May weather. 

Ellen forgot all about her supper at home in 
the talk that followed in regard to the articles 
of clothing to be taken for their dollies; and 
they agreed that as the country was much cooler 
than the city, cloaks and sacks must not on any 
account be left at home. 


CHAPTEE II. 


AN UNINTENDED VISIT. 

OU must go this afternoon and tell your 



X grandpa, and aunt, and Uncle Forester 
that you are going to the country on Monday,” 
said Ellen’s mother the next day. 

“Yes, and Cousin Leo; won’t he be sur- 
prised to hear that we are going ? ” replied El- 
len ioyously. “ May I ask Sophie to go with 
me to tell them?” 

“Yes, I think her aunt can spare her, al- 
though she told me last evening that she in- 
tends making two new print dresses for Sophie 
this week, and may need Sophie to help take 
care of baby.” 

“ But it won’t take us long to run around to 
Uncle Forester’s ; it is only five squares away. 
This morning I will wash and iron my dollies’ 
clothes. What will I take my clothes and dol- 
lies in, mamma ? ” 

“Your papa is intending to give you a nice 
little trunk, and one to Sophie ; you can tell her 
of it this afternoon.” 

“Oh, that will be splendid; will they be just 
alike, mamma ? ” 


An Unintended Visit. 19 

“Yes, if you both wish it; he said that you 
and Sophie could stop at the store this after- 
noon on your way to your Uncle Forester’s and 
choose them. We first thought that he would 
send one to you and one to Sophie before you 
saw them at the store, but we think it will be of 
use to you to learn to choose for yourselves, 
and he will help you to make a wise choice.” 

“ I am so glad that papa has a trunk store ; 
won’t Sophie be glad to have a trunk all her 
own ; may I run up now and tell her, mamma ? ’ 

“Yes, it would be as well not to wait until 
afternoon, as Mrs. Endicott will then not have 
to think of a trunk for Sophie, and she can fit 
the dresses before you go to your aunt’s if it 
suits her to do so.” 

Ellen ran away and found Sophie in the play- 
house in the porch packing Sarah Jane’s, 
Amanda’s, and Julia’s clothes in a paper box 
that Mrs. Endicott had given her for the jour- 
ney. 

“And see, Ellen,” she said in glee, “I have 
made this lovely wrap this morning for Julia,” 
and through the glass lid of a small box Ellen 
saw something the color of the sky, through a 
net work of lace like a fleecy cloud. 

“Oh, it is lovely!” she said, “take it out that 
I may see it in my hands.” 

The three-cornered piece of light-blue satin 


20 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

was very dainty with its border of lace, and was 
neatly sewed. 

“ Where did you get the things to make such 
a lovely shawl?” asked Ellen. “I do wish 
Matilda had one, her cloth sack is too warm for 
this beautiful weather.” 

•‘Look here!” cried Sophie, as she drew 
forth another spool-cotton box, exactly like the 
first, in which was a green-silk shawl with an 
edging of black lace. 

“Aunty gave me all, and I made them, and 
you can have whichever you like best for Ma- 
tilda,” said Sophie. 

“You always like blue, Sophie, and I like 
green, so I will take the green.” 

“ I was not going to tell you till we got in the 
country, and then surprise you, but I had to,” 
said Sophie. 

“And oh, Sophie, I have the greatest thing 
to tell you ; papa is going to give us trunks to 
take our clothes and our dollies in to the coun- 
try ; we are to go to Aunt Forester’s this after- 
noon and tell them all that we are going, and 
are to go by papa’s store and choose our trunks. 
Ask your Aunt Margaret if you can go.” 

Before the sentence was fairly spoken, So- 
phie was half way up the steps to the nursery, 
and to her delight, Mrs. Endicott was not only 
willing to have her to go, but said that she was 


An Unintended Visit. 


21 


very glad that she was to have a trunk, and 
told her to thank Mr. Forester for his kindness. 

There was now so much to talk of, that Mrs. 
Endicott had dinner upon the table before it 
came into Ellen’s mind that it was time to go 
home. 

She hurried away, and when she got there 
found her father had come from his store and 
was about to sit down to dinner. 

“Come, little daughter,” he said, “take your 
place quickly, I must be back as soon as possi- 
ble.” 

Ellen obeyed, and folded her hands to listen 
to her father’s prayer for a blessing upon the food 
set before them, and hurried as he was, time 
was taken to ask it in his usual reverent man- 
ner, and also to chat with his wife and daughter 
in his usual cheerful way. 

“Sophie will go .with me this afternoon, 
mamma, her Aunt Margaret said she may; and 
oh, mamma, you ought to see the lovely silk 
shawls she made for her Julia and my Matilda! 
Her Aunt Margaret gave her the silk and lace, 
and she gave her a box to carry her dollie’s 
clothes in ; won’t you give me one, mamma, to 
put Matilda’s and Janet’s and Sylvia’s in?” 

“ Mamma need not put on her studying cap 
to think of a box she can spare for you until 
you have been to the store,” said her father, 


22 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

with a glance at Mrs. Forester, and both looked 
at Ellen and smiled. 

Ellen did not see this, she was too busy 
thinking of the many pleasant things that she 
and Sophie had been talking of ; life was very 
sweet to Ellen. 

Dinner was finished, her father returned to 
the store and her mother to the nursery, and 
Ellen ran to the kitchen to tell Bridget of the 
many pleasant things that were happening that 
day. 

“And there is something else just as pleasant 
as what you have told me,” said Bridget, laugh- 
ing goodnaturedly, and looking very wise. 

“What is it, Bridget? O Bridget! won’t you 
tell me ? ” and Ellen held her by the dress, or 
rather was dragged along by it, for Bridget was 
on her way to the dining-room to remove the 
dishes. 

“No indaade, its a secret,” and Bridget shook 
herself loose, and with a skip and a bound was 
in the dining-room busy at work. 

“O Bridget, I will give you that nice orange 
grandpa sent me last evening by Leo, if you 
will only tell me.” 

“Not for all the oranges in the whole 
wurreld,” laughed the fifteen-year- old Bridget 
gayly ; “ oranges are plenty, but secrets are 
scarce,” 


An Unintended Visit. 


23 


“Does mamma know it ? ” 

“ Indaade and she does know that same.” 

“ And papa, does he know it ? ” 

“Indaade and he doos.” 

“ I will give you the orange if you will tell 
me how you know it, Bridget.” 

“ Bring the orange,” said Bridget. 

Ellen flew to her play-house in one corner of 
the dining-room, and brought it. 

“ Now, Bridget, who told you ? ” 

“ Nobody.” 

“ Then you shall not have the orange,” and 
Ellen held it behind her back. 

“ But I heard it, indaade I did. Miss Ellen,” 
insisted Bridget, her small gray eyes sparkling 
with glee; “but as nobody told me, half the 
orange is all the pay I ask for tollin’ you how 
I know it.” 

Ellen flew to the table for the carving knife, 
and in a moment two halves of a beautiful 
large orange lay ready to be eaten. 

“ Now, Bridget, how did you hear it? ” 

“ Your father tolled your mother while I was 
a bringin’ in the dinner. It’s to be a sur- 
prise.” 

“ There is your half of the orange, Bridget, 
and you may have this half if you will tell me 
what it is.” 

“ But if your father or mother wanted you to 


24 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

know it they would tell you, and it wouldn’t be 
right for me to tell you.” 

“Did they tell you not to tell me ? ” 

“ No ; I don’t think they know that I was 
listening to what they were sayin’, but I was.” 

“ Then papa and mamma would say that you 
ought not to have told me anything about it, 
or even let me know that you knew it. They 
would say that it is not honorable because you 
know that they do not wish me to know it.” 

“ It is that same I am thinkin’ my own self. 
Miss Ellen,” said Bridget, “ and I’ll give you 
this half orange if you don’t tell them I told you.” 

“ I won’t tell them, Bridget, unless they ask 
me, so you eat your half and I will eat mine.” 

The affair being happily settled, the orange 
was eaten, and at that moment Sophie came, 
and Ellen hurried to dress for the call at the 
store, and then to her Uncle Forester’s, and 
almost forgot Bridget and the secret. 

It would be very hard to find two happier 
children than Ellen and Sophie while choosing 
trunks from the many dark and light leather 
ones which Mr. Forester directed one of his 
clerks to show them. 

Sophie had taken Julia, and Ellen had taken 
Matilda, but had no help from them ; and it is 
doubtful if they could have made a choice had 
not Mr. Forester helped them. 


An Unintended Yisit. 


25 


He pointed out two pretty ones, with places 
in them for hats and shoes, and another place 
for handkerchiefs, and the girls gladly agreed 
with his choice. They were of light leather, 
exactly alike, and strong and well made. 

“We will keep them here until to-morrow,” 
he said, “ and have your names put upon them 
if you would like it done.” 

“Yes, papa, we will leave them, won’t we, 
Sophie?” said Ellen, gleefully, and Sophie 
agreed willingly to such a pleasant plan. 

Now came the surprise of which Bridget had 
hinted ; two neat little trunks for their dollies’ 
clothes, made in the same style of the larger 
ones, with tiny places for hats and ribbons, or 
any other use the dollies choose to make of 
them. 

Two happier little girls could not have been 
found than Ellen and Sophie, neither of whom 
had seen trunks so small. Ellen had gone to 
her father’s store ever since she could remem- 
ber, but did not see them, for the reason that 
they were not there, Mr. Forester having 
bought them that morning for them. 

“ I suppose the dollies would like to have 
their names upon their trunks, would they 
not ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, yes, papa ; but I am afraid the three 
names will not go on, and the trunk must be- 


26 


Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 


long to all of them, and Sophie will want her 
dollies’ trunk to belong to all her dollies.” 

“ There will be no trouble about that,” 
smiled her father, “we will put only the initials 
on them.” 

“ What are initials, papa ? ” 

“ The first letter of their first and last names, 
and of the middle names, if they have them. 
Let me see, I think your favorite is Matilda, so 
we will have M. first.” 

“Yes, and then Janett’s and Sylvia’s.” 

“Very good; the M. and a period will be fol- 
lowed by J. and a period, and finish with S. 
and a period.” 

“That will be splendid; O papa, you are the 
very best person to plan,” and Ellen looked at 
her father with great admiration and pride. 

“Thank you, dear, for the compliment; now 
comes Sophie’s dollies’ names. I think I have 
heard of Sarah Jane.” 

“ She is the oldest,” said Sophie, “then comes 
Amanda and Julia.” 

“ Sarah having two names, we will have to 
put four letters instead of three upon your 
dollies’ trunk.” 

“But they will want the same number as 
Ellen’s dollies; Sarah must only have one 
name; she shall not be Jane any more.” 

Amused at the speed with which Sarah Jane 


An Unintended Visit. 


27 


was forced to drop part of her name to suit the 
occasion, Mr. Forester wrote down S. and a 
period, A. and a period, and J. with a period, 
and putting each slip in the trunk to which it 
belonged the children thanked him heartily, 
and then went on their way to Uncle Forester’s, 
the brother of Ellen’s father. 

Aunt Forester was out calling upon friends, 
but Grandfather Forester welcomed them cor- 
dially. 

“Why, why!” he exclaimed, “here is my 
dear little granddaughter Ellen, and her friend 
Sophie, and each has a doll in her arms ; did 
they cry to come with you? ” 

“ No, grandpa,” said Ellen, “but they needed 
fresh air; and O grandpa, I have the greatest 
news to tell you, Sophie and I are going to 
Grandma Elliott’s to stay all summer and go to 
school.” 

“ To stay all summer ; well, well, that is news 
indeed ; how will you get there — in a bal- 
loon?” 

“No,” laughed Ellen, “Mr. Watson, grand- 
ma’s farmer, is coming to market on Monday, 
and will take us to grandma’s in his great 
market wagon. Won’t we have a splendid 
time ? ” 

“ Nothing to prevent it that I can see,” said 
grandpa, heartily. “Farmer Watson is a kind 


28 


Grandma Elliot's farmhouse. 


man and good driver, I have known him from 
a boy." 

“ Why, did he live here in Baltimore, grand- 
pa?" 

“No; but grandpa lived near Edgermond," 
laughed the old gentleman, “Farmer Watson’s 
father and I were schoolmates." 

“ But, grandpa, I haven’t told you all ; papa 
gave Sophie and me trunks to take our clothes 
in, and a dear little trunk for each of our dol- 
lies’ clothes, and our names and dollies’ names 
upon them.” 

“Wonderful! wonderful! Let me see, how 
many dolls have you ? ’’ 

“Three — Matilda, Janette and Sylvia," said 
Ellen. 

“And how many has Sophie? ’’ 

“ Three — Sarah, Amanda and Julia." 

“ Then six little trunks are required for dol- 
lies’ outfits ? ’’ 

Ellen and Sophie laughed at his astonished 
face. 

“No, grandpa, you are not counting right; 
Sophie has a little trunk for her dollies’ clothes 
and I have a little trunk for my dollies’ clothes." 

“ But you said a little trunk for each dollie’s 
clothes," laughed grandpa. 

“So I did; but you understand now, don’t 
you grandpa? ” 


An Unintended Visit. 


29 


“ I think so ; and wish your uncle, and aunt, 
and Leo were here that you might tell them all 
these wonderful things. But I will try to re- 
member all you have told me, unless you will 
stay and take tea and see them.” 

No, grandpa, we have so much to do at home, 
but this is only Thursday, and we are not to go 
until Monday, and we will come again.” 

‘‘Very good, see that you do;” then the 
children kissed him good-bye, and left for 
home. 

In passing a dwelling in the next street they 
saw a hearse and several coaches standing in 
waiting before a door with crape upon it. 

“Let us get into that one,” said Sophie, nod- 
ding toward the last coach, “ and wait until the 
people come out of the house.” 

Ellen thought this an excellent idea, and with 
their dolls in their arms climbed in quickly, 
and were scarcely seated, when the family, fol- 
lowed by friends, came out and took their 
places in the coaches. 

Ellen and Sophie were so interested in watch- 
ing them that they forgot to get out ; nor did 
they notice that the driver of their coach was 
on the box until it was in motion, and they 
found themselves following the others. 

This was so charming that they delayed call- 
ing to the driver to stop, and then Sophie said 


80 Grandma Elliot's Earmhouse. 

that they might as well ride to the cemetery and 
come back in the coach, and Ellen agreed. 

So on they went until the city was left be- 
hind, and they were rolling along a smooth 
road, and past green fields and fragrant, cool 
woods, and scented the fresh air, delighted with 
all. 

When the cemetery was reached there was a 
number of people to meet the family and their 
friends, and as soon as the grave was filled they 
took the ladies home with them to a large farm- 
house near by, and the gentlemen returned to 
the city in the coaches. 

Ellen and Sophie did not notice that the 
coaches had gone, but went with the children 
of the farm-house, who joyfully took charge of 
them, guided them to the gardens, the orchards, 
the dove-cote, the spring in the woods, and 
other points of interest about the farm. 

Ellen and Sophie were having a fine visit, 
and when the supper bell rang for supper went 
in with the children. 

“Why, whose little girls are these?” asked 
the lady of the house in surprise. 

No one knew ; the guests from the city who 
saw them in the cemetery, supposed they be- 
longed to the neighborhood, and thought no 
more of it until they met them at the table with 
their dolls. 

It never came into Ellen’s and Sophie’s 


An Unintended Visit. 31 

minds that they would have to remain over 
night, nor that their relatives would he anxious 
about them ; nor did the kind people at the 
farm-house speak of it, knowing that it would 
make them unhappy and do no good. 

“It is impossible for them to go back to the 
city to-night,” said the lady, in a low tone, to 
her guests. “ There is no train until midnight, 
and there is no one that I can send with a mes- 
sage. Their parents will be terribly anxious, 
not knowing where they are.” 

“There is nothing to be done but to keep 
them here to-night, and take them with us to 
the city in the morning train,” replied the 
guests. 

And so to the delight of Ellen and Sophie, 
and the other children, they stayed and played 
games on the lawn until bed-time, then went to 
a pleasant room, slept soundly all night, and 
were up in time for a good breakfast in the 
morning. 

But while Ellen and Sophie were enjoying 
the visit, three families in the city would not 
have slept a minute the whole night had it not 
been for God’s kindness to them all in allow- 
ing Leo to bring a message to them which was 
a great comfort. 

When it had grown near tea-time the evening 
before, Mrs. Endicott had expected Sophie 
every moment, but did not feel much alarmed. 


32 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

as she knew that she and Ellen were to go to 
Uncle Forester’s, where perhaps they had 
stayed until Ellen’s tea-time, and she was now 
at Ellen’s taking supper. She was surprised 
that she had stayed, without running home to 
ask permission, as was the custom. 

But she grew terribly anxious when Bridget 
came to see if Ellen was there. She had been 
to Ellen’s Uncle Forester’s and heard that the 
two little girls had left there several hours be- 
fore to come home, but had not come, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Forester were in great distress of 
mind. 

The police were notified and the search kept 
up till late in the evening, when to the great re- 
lief of all, Leo came running to tell Ellen’s 
parents that a coachman’s son had told him 
that no one went in the coach he drove that 
afternoon to the cemetery except two little 
girls with dolls. 

Although but ten years of age, Leo was 
thoughtful enough to take the name and ad- 
dress of the coachman, and Mr. Forester went 
to see him, and was very grateful for what he 
heard. 

The coachman thought that Ellen and So- 
phie were friends of the family, and had a place 
in the funeral procession. He had seen them 
going with the others to the farm-house, and 
thoaght nothing else but that they had a right 


An Unintended Visit. 


33 


to go. He assured the anxious father that they 
would be well cared for, and would come back 
to Baltimore with the other guests in the morn- 
ing. 

He was right in this; they did come, as 
cheery as robins, delighted with their visit, and 
in charge of one of the ladies who had been 
one of the guests of the mistress of the farm- 
house, who was her cousin. 

Mrs. Forester and Mrs. Endicott thanked 
her sincerely for her kindness, and both ladies 
wrote that day to the mistress of the beautiful 
country home, thanking her for her kindness 
to Ellen and Sophie and inviting her to visit 
them. 

“All has turned out better than we feared, 
my dear child,” said Mrs. Forester to Ellen, 
“ but you must never, never act in that way 
again. You will not realize until you are older 
how your father and I suffered in not knowing 
where you were.” 

“Oh mamma, I promise that we will never 
do the like again. We thought we would stay 
in the coach until the people were read} to 
come in ; but none came, and we forgot.” 

“ You had no right in there, and that led to 
your going to the farm-house where you were 
not invited. It was through want of thought, 
but that want we are told sometimes brings as 
much trouble to a person as want of heart.” 


CHAPTEK III. 

BY ms GBAJYBFATffBBB HEARTH, 

M aking ready for the visit to the country 
went on with speed in both families. 
By Friday evening Sophie’s two new dresses 
were made, pressed, neatly folded, and put in 
the new trunk with the others. Handkerchiefs, 
ruffles, pins and hair ribbons were in the place 
for such little articles, and her best hat in the 
place for it, although like several other articles 
had to be taken out for Sunday-school and 
church on the following Sunday. 

Ellen’s trunk was ready also, and as for the 
dolls’ trunks, they had been packed, unpacked 
and packed again ; many changes in the spring 
weather making changes in what was to be 
taken for the dollies, and what left. 

Leo came that evening, and brought two new 
and beautiful and strong rocking-chairs, as 
presents from Grandpa Forester to Ellen and 
Sophie. He thought they would be very tired 
sitting so long upon the board seats of the 
market-wagon during the long ride from Balti- 
more to Edgermond, so sent the pretty cane- 
seat chairs. 


35 


By His Grandfather's Hearth. 

This was a great surprise and delight, and 
both girls sent their best love and a kiss to 
grandpa, and sent word that they were coming 
the next evening to bid him goodbye. 

His errand done, Leo went home; and on 
his way saw one of his schoolmates, who did 
not turn to speak to him, which made Leo feel 
very much slighted and a little angry. 

His grandfather, father and mother were at 
the tea-table when he came in, and he took his 
place without saying anything. 

Mr. Forester asked a blessing, and then his 
grandfather asked how Ellen and Sophie liked 
their chairs. 

‘‘Oh! please excuse me, ^andpa, I almost 
forgot to tell you about it ; they were so pleased 
with them, and sent their love and a kiss, and 
are coming to-morrow evening to see us and 
bid us goodbye.” 

“So,” said the old gentleman to himself, “all 
is right in that quarter. I wonder what has 
vexed the boy ? ” 

“I suppose your Aunt Emma invited you to 
stay to tea, she is always so kind,” said Mrs. 
Forester. 

“Yes; she wanted me to stay, and so did 
Ellen and Sophie, but I knew that our supper 
would be an hour earlier than their’s, and I 
want to play ball with the boys on the lot.” 


36 Grand7na Elliots l^armhouse. 

“ So that is not what has vexed him,” thought 
Grandfather Forester. “ I wonder what it was.” 

“I passed Frank Mallory on my way home 
from Aunt Emma’s, and he would not speak,” 
said Leo, as they were rising from the table. 
“ It will be many a day before he gets another 
chance to slight me; he will have to speak 
first, and maybe I will not speak to him even 
then.” 

“Have you given him any reason for treating 
you in that way ? ” asked his mother. 

“ I beat him in a game of ball last evening, 
and crowed over him ; I suppose that was what 
miffed him.” 

Mr. and Mrs. forester said nothing to i this, 
for they knew that the dear grandfather who 
shared the good home, with them would give 
suitable advice to their sensitive boy. 

“ When you have finished your ball-playing, 
Leo, come to my room, and we will have a lit- 
tle talk,” said grandfather, as Leo took his hat 
to go out. 

The boy readily promised, for he always 
liked to sit in a large arm-chair in his grand- 
father’s room before the wood fire on the hearth. 
It was so bright and pleasant in there, and he 
loved to watch the fire-light making shadows 
on the wall and making a ruddy glow upon the 
old-time furniture which had been in the For- 


By His Grandfather's Hearth. 37 

ester homestead when his grandfather was a 
boy. 

“I do hope the evenings will stay cool for a 
good while yet,” he said. As his game of ball 
finished he came to his grandfather’s room, and 
dropped into the chair that was waiting for 
him. “ I will be sorry when it is too warm to 
have a fire upon the hearth.” 

“ Yes, I too love to sit by an open fire, it re- 
minds me of the times when I was a boy in my 
father’s house ; but we must remember that 
every season is for good in many ways.” 

‘‘ I love to hear you tell of when you were a 
boy,” said Leo, as he looked contentedly about 
him, and then at the dear grandfather in the 
chair opposite, “ did you always live in the 
country when you were a boy ? ” 

“ Yes, all my boyhood was passed near the 
village of Edgermond, our farm adjoined that 
of your Cousin Ellen’s Grandfather Elliot.” 

“ Did everybody have fires on the hearth 
when you were a boy ? 

“ Yes, for wood was plenty, nearly all farms 
having a woods, and we generally burned 
hickory wood, cut from our own woods; but 
sometimes we had a ross fire, and then we 
children were glad, because it was a change 
from other fires, and ross was used for fuel only 
during the cool evenings of early fall.” 


38 (j-randma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

“What is ross, grandfather?” 

• “It is the rough coating from the bark of 
oak, chestnut and other forest trees, and is of 
no use except for fuel.” 

“ Did it make a bright fire ? ” 

“No, it burned with a deep red glow, and 
was used, I think, more for the purpose of get- 
ting it out of the way than for any other rea- 
son.” 

“But you children loved it ? ” 

“ Yes, and many times when sitting by this 
hearth my thoughts go back to the past, and I 
think I see the old home, and all the dear ones 
who gathered about the ross fire.” 

“ Tell me alDOut them, grandfather, as they 
looked when you were a boy like me.” 

“ I will ; and first will say, that our home 
was a large old-time farm house, which had 
been in my father’s family for more than a 
hundred years. The room we used in the 
evenings was the picture of comfort, with the 
gay rag carpet upon the fioor, and the old- 
fashioned carved furniture. A centre -table, 
with great claw-feet, was in front of the ross 
fire, and upon it a whale-oil lamp ; for in those 
days coal-oil was a secret which mother earth 
was hiding in her bosom waiting the time she 
would see fit to give it out for the use of her 
children. On one side of the table sat my 


39 


By His Grandfather' s Hearth. 

father, his black hair silvered by the frosts of 
time. He read aloud to us from the best of all 
books — the Bible — or perhaps Milton, Addi- 
son, Bunyan, or other heroes who had fought 
well the battle of life and gone to their reward.” 

“ Did you love to hear him read ? ” 

“Yes, dear, he was a fine reader, so good 
that we were not only listeners, but spectators, 
of the scenes and incidents of his readings. 
Then upon the other side of the table was our 
mother, still young and beautiful in the eyes of 
the group gathered about her. Beside her 
was the well-filled work-basket, and in her 
hands one of the little garments always need- 
ing a button or string.” 

“Did you have a grandfather with you?” 

“No, dear, he died before I could remem- 
ber; but we had one of the dear grandmothers, 
my mother’s mother, who sat in the large arm- 
chair near the hearth, knitting in hand, the 
border of the neat cap shading the fair face 
and tender blue eyes.” 

“Where did you children sit, grandfather?” 

“We took our places wherever we thought 
we could hear and see best — sometimes kneel- 
ing in front of the ross fire roasting chestnuts 
or popping corn. It seems but yesterday,” and 
Mr. Forester looked into the fire as if trying to 
see all the dear faces that were in his boy- 
hood’s home.” 


40 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

“ Tell me more about the ross, please, grand- 
father.” 

“We children were always glad when father 
was having trees cut down in our woods, for 
we knew that the next pleasant thing that would 
happen would be the coming of a bark-shaver, 
and we could watch the sharp knife pare ofi 
the refuse ross, and we would be allowed to 
take the smooth pieces of bark from the 
shaver’s hand and pile them up in any way we 
pleased.” 

“Did you burn the bark?” 

“ Oh, no ; that was very useful ; it was ground 
into small pieces called ‘tan,’ and through its 
help the hides of cows, sheep and calves were 
made into leather.” 

“I would like to watch while the tan made 
hides into leather,” said Leo. 

“So did we like to watch. The bark-mill 
and the tannery were owned by two neighbors, 
and we could go there and see the whole pro- 
cess of making bark into tan. Then we could 
go to the tannery, and see the deep vats filled 
with water, in which the tan was soaking until 
the color for changing the hides into leather 
was brought out. Then we watched the leather 
and saw it change its color to that of new ma- 
hogany wood, and become firm and strong, and 
when made into shoes and boots and saddles 


By His Grandfather' s Hearth. ' 41 

and other articles would not let rain water come 
through it.” 

“Are any of the people living now who used 
to sit by the ross fire? ” 

“No; all this was in the long ago — parents 
and grandparents have gone to be with their 
children in the heavenly home. The bark- 
mill has been torn down, the tannery with its 
vats is now a fine apple orchard, and the ross 
fire lives only in memory.” 

“It will live in my memory, too, grandfather; 
I do love to hear you tell of old times.” 

“And I love to hear you tell of new times; 
but you said this evening that you would not 
speak to Frank Mallory unless he speaks first, 
and I felt sorry to hear it.” 

“Why, grandfather, I never thought of you 
caring anything about it; why are you sorry?” 

“ Because to be good is to be happy, and I 
love to see every one happy and living in peace. 
It also calls to mind something which happened 
in my young days when Lester Wellington was 
my schoolmate, best friend and near neighbor 
in my country home. We sat at the same desk 
in school, shared all our treasures with each 
other, and our first parting was when I went to 
New York to study law in the office of an old 
friend of my father. 

“As time passed on, several gentlemen in 


42 Grayidma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

Baltimore built summer homes for themselves 
in the neighborhood of Edgermond, among 
them a merchant named Wilmot, with an only 
son named Fred. 

“ Soon Lester’s letters were filled with praises 
of Fred Wilmot. They had become great 
friends, and I grew jealous of their friendship, 
and thought that Lester was giving me up and 
forgetting me for his new friend, and I was not 
only sorry but angry. 

“One morning in going to our office I met 
Lester walking arm in arm with a young man 
whom I had never seen, and I said to myself, 
that is Fred Wilmot.’ 

“The old love for Lester sprang up in my 
heart with the surprise of seeing him, for I had 
not heard of his coming to New York. I smiled, 
and was about to grasp his hand, but there was 
no look of gladness at seeing me, although his 
handsome brown eyes were resting upon me. 
He did not appear to know me, and deeply 
hurt I passed on. Before turning the street 
corner I looked back and saw that they had 
stopped and were talking earnestly. 

“ When I reached the office I was told that 
two young men had called there, and were 
much disappointed at not seeing me, as they 
were on their way to a steamer for a voyage to 
Europe, and could not wait until I came. 


43 


By His Grandfather" s Hearth, 

“That evening when I went to my boarding 
house I found a letter from my mother which 
should have reached me the evening before. 
‘My dear son,’ she wrote, ‘knowing that it 
would grieve you, I have not written you that 
Lester’s eye-sight has for several months been 
failing. Now he is entirely blind. To-day he 
leaves here with his friend Wilmot to visit a 
noted specialist in Germany. They will re- 
main in New York, over night, and in the 
morning will call to see you at the office, and 
bid you farewell.’ ” 

“O grandfather! ” said Leo, with tears in his 
eyes, “how sorry you must have been!” 

“I cannot tell you my sorrow and remorse 
for not having stopped to bid my poor friend 
farewell. I never saw him again ; he died 
abroad, and young Wilmot returned alone. He 
told me that as I passed them that day Lester 
knew my footsteps, and they stopped and called 
me, but I was beyond hearing, and Lester was 
much grieved. I tell you all this, Leo, that 
you may never refuse to speak to a human be- 
ing, for it might be the very last time you could 
have the chance. And now goodnight, my dear 
boy, and may our dear Father in heaven grant 
you his peace.” 

“Grandfather,” said Leo the next evening, 
“I told Frank Mallory that I spoke to him yes- 


44 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

terdaj when he was looking in a store window, 
and he said he was thinking what his money 
would buy for a birthday present for his little 
sister, and he did not hear me.” 

“My lesson fell upon good soil,” said the 
kind grandfather to himself, with a satisfied 
smile. 


CHAPTEK IV. 


o 


OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 

MAMMA ! here is Grandma Elliot’s 
market wagon ! Yes, it is stopping at 
our house, and the man is looking up at our 
windows ; and oh, mamma ! there is a girl in 
the wagon the size of me, and she has a dollie.” 

Ellen had been for some time looking from 
the window of her mother’s room, which was 
also the nursery, although her mother had not 
thought that Mr. Watson would reach the city 
much before noon. But when she went to the 
window she was quite as sure as was Ellen that 
Mr. Watson had come, for she knew her 
mother’s horses, and knew Mr. Watson, al- 
though he had his back to the windows, tying 
the horses to the iron post. 

“ Yes, Ellen, he has come,” she said ; “ run 
down to the door and invite him and the little 
girl in.” 

Ellen flew off like a bird on the wing and 
welcomed the travelers. 

“ This is my little daughter Sally,” said Mr. 
Watson, putting the hand of the little girl in 
Ellen’s ; “ she has never been in Baltimore, and 


46 Grandma Elliot's l^armhouse. 

wanted to come and ride back with you to your 
grandmother’s.” 

Ellen clasped the little brown hand and 
kissed the little brown face with hearty good- 
will, and just then Mrs. Forester came down 
and invited them into the parlor, making them 
feel welcome by her kind and cordial manner. 
“ I hope all are well at the farm, Mr. Watson,” 
she said. 

“All entirely well, thank you. Mrs. Elliot 
sent her love to you all, and also some things 
from the farm as a present. I will bring them 
in now if you will please show me where you 
would like them put.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Watson. Does mother 
expect you back this evening ? ” 

“ Yes ; it is a pretty long trip for the chil- 
dren, but the days are getting long now, and 
they can get out of the wagon now and then 
and have a little run about for a change.” 

“ And this is the little Sally that mother 
often speaks of in her letters ? ” and Mrs. For- 
ester drew the child to her and kissed her. 

“ Yes, this is Sally; she could scarcely sleep 
last night for thinking of the trip, and was up 
quite early this morning to dress her doll.” 

“I hope you and Sally are to take dinner 
with us, Mr. Watson ; we are expecting you to 
stay.” 


47 


Off to the Country. 

‘‘ Thank you ; but I have many errands to do 
in this hour before dinner, but Sally can stay ; 
she has set her heart upon visiting your little 
girl. I will go down town and have the horses 
fed at the ‘ Farmer’s Inn,’ and give them a few 
hours rest before we set off for Edgermond.” 

“Will either of you have some refreshment 
now ? ” asked Mrs. Forester ; “ you have had a 
long drive ; the little girl may need something 
before our dinner hour — twelve o’clock.” 

“ No, ma’am, thank you ; her mother put us 
up a basket of apple pie, cheese, and other 
things, and we had plenty of fruit besides, and 
a jug of new milk. Sally certainly enjoyed the 
trip.” 

“I hope she will also enjoy her visit here,” 
said Mrs. Forester, as Mr. Watson arose to go 
to the wagon. 

“ Mamma,” said Ellen the moment he had 
left, “ may I show Sally my dollies and my 
play-house, and then take her up to Sophie’s? ” 

“Yes; and you can invite Sophie to take 
dinner with you if her aunt can spare her, and 
come by twelve o’clock, as Bridget will have 
dinner on time.” 

Catching hands, they darted from the room, 
and were soon at the play-house, talking about 
their dolls and doll clothes. 

Sally’s dolly was home-made, stuffed with 


48 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

rags instead of sawdust, but was none the less 
dear to the loving heart of Sally. 

Mr. Watson had in the meantime brought 
from the wagon a large roll of beautiful yellow 
butter, two fine hams, a box of honey, and a 
pair of fat chickens ready for the oven. A sec- 
ond and third trip had to be taken to bring a 
barrel of apples, a sack of potatoes, jars of pre- 
serves and apple butter, a cheese, and a large 
pound-cake, all from the mistress of the fine 
farm to her loved daughter and her family. 
Then Mr. Watson drove away, and Mrs. Fores- 
ter went to the kitchen to speak to Bridget, her 
youthful maid, about the dinner. 

“ Mr. Forester will not be at home until two 
o’clock to-day, Bridget,” she said ; “ I will wait 
for him, but the children must have their din- 
ner at twelve. We will stew one of these nice 
chickens, and make plenty of gravy, and with 
potatoes, lettuce, good bread and butter, and 
the custards I made this morning, we can have 
dinner at twelve without hurry.” 

“That we can, ma’am, and a good one, too,” 
and Bridget set to work to joint the fat young 
fowl while Mrs. Forester set the table. 

“ You have put on four places ; have you 
changed your mind about waiting for Mr. For- 
ester ? ” asked Bridget, whose quick gaze left 
nothing unseen. 


49 


Off to the Country. 

“No, Bridget; but while the children are 
taking dinner I intend going out to buy a doll 
for Sally, that she can have as a remembrance 
of her first visit to Baltimore.” 

“And who is to sit in your place at the 
table ? ” asked the little maid, with her face 
bright with some happy thought. 

“ You can take your dinner with them ; it 
will be too long for you to wait until after two 
o’clock.” 

“ True for you,” said Bridget in delight ; 
“ and I will kape the best pieces of this big fat 
chicken for you and the master. Oh! but you 
are the kind, thoughtful one 1 ” 

Before Mrs. Forester dressed to go out she 
waited to see Ellen with her Matilda and Sally 
with her Dorcas pass out and down the steps 
and up the street on their way to see Sophie, 
for she did not wish to tell them where she was 
going, nor to put Ellen, who was sure to ask, off 
with excuses. She arranged the dessert, and 
then left the field clear to the faithful little 
maid, who could finish the dinner and serve 
it well for the children. They — Ellen, Sophie, 
and Sally — were having a happy time together, 
and Sally had seen and enjoyed so much since 
she left home early in the morning that the 
visit was one she would never forget. Mrs. 
Endicott had made her very welcome, and be- 


50 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

fore she left gave her a lot of bright pieces of 
cashmere, silk and calico, and odds and ends 
of ribbons and laces. Sally had never been so 
rich in her life, and when Mrs. Endicott added 
to her kindness by giving her a little rocking 
chair, she had no words in which to tell her 
happiness. The chair was one that Mrs. Endi- 
cott had when a child ; she had given it to 
Sophie, but Sophie gladly said it might be 
given to Sally, now that she had one like 
Ellen’s. Mrs. Watson had put a stool in the 
wagon for Sally as a change from the board 
seat, but it was not thought of, now that she 
had a rocking chair with rosebuds painted on 
its back and arms. 

“ Mamma told us to come back at twelve ; is 
it time for us to go ? ” asked Ellen, when Sally 
had seen all of Sophie’s home from attic to 
basement. 

“ It wants only five minutes of it, which will 
just allow you time to get there,” replied Mrs. 
Endicott. 

So, with Sarah in arms, Sophie ran along 
with the others, and got there just as Bridget 
was about to bring in the dinner.” 

“Where’s mamma, Bridget?” asked Ellen, 
as they dashed through the hall and into 
the dining-room, and from thence to the 
kitchen. 


51 


Off to the Country. 

“ She’s gone out ; ” and Bridget smiled in a 
very knowing manner. 

“Oh! Bridget, tell us what she went for; 
was it something for us ? ” 

“ No, indade ; it wasn’t for us ; ” and Bridget 
pursed up her lips and smiled with a very mys- 
terious air as she said us. 

“ Then it was for me ! ” exclaimed Ellen ; 
“yes, I know it was for me.” 

“ No, it wasn’t for me,” corrected Bridget. 

“ I do not mean for you, Bridget ; of course, 
it is not for you when you are going to stay at 
home. Is it for Sophie ? ” 

“No, it is not for Sophie.” 

“ Then it must be for Sally. Oh, dear 
Bridget, do please tell us what it is 1 ” 

“No, indade; it wouldn’t do for the likes of 
me to be telling it;” and Bridget whirled 
around on one foot and “ made a cheese ” with 
her stiffly- starched calico dress, much to the 
admiration of Sally, who had made them many 
times, but not with such success. 

“Yes, it is for Sally,” commented Ellen; “if 
I guess lots of things, will you tell me when I 
come to it, Bridget ? ” 

But the little maid realized that Ellen’s first 
guess might be a doll, so hurried them all in to 
the table, where the chicken was smoking in its 
rich gravy; for she had not been idle during 


52 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

the dialogue, but was running to and fro be- 
tween the rooms and putting the dinner upon 
the table in the usual order. 

“Who is to wait on the table, now that 
mamma is out ? ” asked Ellen. 

“ I am to be the lady of the house : the mis- 
tress said I was to ate my dinner with you.” 
And with an air of pride Bridget took the head 
of the table, and bowed her head as she had 
seen Mrs. Forester do when Mr. Forester asked 
the blessing. Ellen and Sophie, from force of 
habit, did the same, and little Sally looked on 
in surprise. It was a jolly meal, and Bridget 
made her share of the fun. They had just fin- 
ished their custard when Mrs. Forester’s step 
was heard in the hall. She passed on up to 
the nursery, and Bridget nodded, as much as to 
say, “she is gone to put away what she has 
brought until you have finished dinner.” 

Ellen’s mind was divided between curiosity 
as to what it was and a dialogue that had just 
arisen, and as soon as her mother entered she 
asked for information. 

“ Mamma, what street will Mr. Watson drive 
out on ; will it be past Sophie’s house ? ” 

“ No ; it will be in an opposite direction.” 

“Then how will he get Sophie’s trunk and 
chair ? ” 

“ He will drive up there and get them and 


53 


Off to the Country. 

then turn his wagon around and come down 
the street and halt here for yours and Sally’s.” 

Ellen and Sophie drew a long breath of sat- 
isfaction ; they had not thought that the affair 
could be so easily arranged. 

“ But Sophie did not wear her hat down 
here ; will she wait until the wagon comes and 
then go home and get it ? ” 

“ She can do as she thinks best about that. 
Of course, she must go home to bid her aunt 
and the baby good-bye and to get her hat.” 

“ Then will she stay there and ride down in 
the wagon ? ” 

“She can do as she thinks best about that.” 

“ If she gets in the wagon up there, will we 
walk up there to get in, or will we wait here ? ” 

Ellen’s puzzled face sent Bridget off in a 
peal of laughter, which shamed her so in the 
presence of Mrs. Forester that she rushed 
through the kitchen and out the back door to 
the porch, where she wiped the tears of mirth 
from her eyes, and came in looking so demure 
that it was all that Mrs. Forester could do to 
keep from laughing, and the question of Ellen 
was too serious to admit of mirth. 

“ Now, I will tell you the very nicest way,” 
she said, decidedly. “When Mr. Watson stops 
at our door you and Sally can walk up with 
Sophie to get her hat, and bid her aunt and 


54 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

little cousin good-bye while he is putting your 
chair and trunk in the wagon. Then he will 
drive up there and get Sophie’s trunk and 
chair, and you can all ride down here in the 
wagon, which will halt here for a basket of 
oranges, lemons, bananas and dates which I 
have ordered, and will be here in a few minutes, 
a present to your grandma.” 

So then Bridget was for once in her life mis- 
taken. Her mother had not gone out to get 
something for Sally, but a present for Grandma 
Elliot ; and Ellen looked with an air of triumph 
at Bridget, who was standing in the door that 
led to the kitchen. 

‘‘ Now, I wish Sally to go into the hall and 
bring something here that is wrapped in white 
paper,” said Mrs. Forester with a smile. 

Sally was too surprised to move ; she stood 
looking bashfully at the lady. 

“ Then Ellen and Sophie can go with her and 
bring another package that is tied up in brown 
paper.” 

The three children raced to see who could 
reach the hall table first. Ellen grasped the 
white package and put it in Sally’s arms, and 
she and Sophie carried the other. 

“You may unwrap yours first, Sally ; both 
packages are for you,” said Mrs. Forester 
kindly. 


55 


Off to the Country. 

Surprise and delight shone in the sunburned 
face of Sally when she took the wrappings from 
'a paper box, took off the lid, and saw a beauti- 
ful doll with blue eyes and flaxen hair. 

“ Is it truly for me ? ” she whispered ; ‘‘ can I 
take it in my hands ? ” 

“ Yes, it is yours ; you can all see it, and then 
put it in the box to carry home.” 

They all admired the sweet face and pretty 
dress of the doll, which was not too flne for 
every-day use, and then Mrs. Forester asked 
her to unwrap the brown package. She did so 
with fingers that trembled with eagerness, and 
there was a doll’s trunk exactly like those of 
Ellen and Sophie, with her initials S. and a 
period and W. and a period. It was set in a 
paper box of little larger in size that the newly- 
made letters might not be blurred before hav- 
ing time to dry. 

Sally having no words in which to express 
her thanks, stood by with a happy smile upon 
her lips, and tears of joy in her pretty dark 
eyes, but Ellen and Sophie made up for her 
silence. 

“ Are you glad, Sally ? ” asked Ellen, to 
which Sallie nodded “yes,” and Sophie said, 
“You meant ‘yes,’ didn’t you, Sally? ” to which 
question Sally nodded again. She could not 
trust her voice to speak. 


56 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

“O mamma!” said Ellen, “we forgot to tell 
you that Sophie’s aunt gave Sally a rocking- 
chair, and she gave her pretty things to make 
clothes of for Dorcas, and now she has a trunk 
to put them in.” 

Just then they heard Mr. Watson say “ whoa ” 
to his horses, and a moment after he came in, 
followed by a boy from the fruit store with the 
basket of fruit for Grandma Elliot. 

“Will Sophie go now, mamma, and will we 
go with her?” asked Ellen. 

“Yes, you can go ; ” and away they ran. 
The boy took his empty basket and went, and 
Mr. Watson put Ellen’s trunk and chair, and 
the box of fruit and Sally’s boxes in on the 
clean straw spread thickly on the floor of the 
wagon. 

By this time Mr. Forester came, and he and 
Farmer Watson had a talk in the cool parlor of 
the people in and about Edgermond, while 
Mrs. Forester went to the dining-room, and, 
with the help of Bridget, put up two paper 
boxes of sandwiches and other things for the 
supper of the travelers, which, with the fine 
apples already in the wagon, would keep them 
from being hungry for the rest of the day. 

Then Mr. Watson drove up the street and 
soon returned with the three little girls and 
Sophie’s possessions, and Sally’s package of 


57 


Off to the Country. 

samples, and a box of eatables, and, as a 
crowning act of kindness of Mrs. Endicott and 
joy for Sally, a set of little dishes. It had been 
Sophie’s, but she gave it freely, and, as a re- 
ward for her unselfishness, Mrs. Endicott prom- 
ised her a new set when she came back from 
the country, for it was at her request that she 
gave them to Sally. 

They all got out of the wagon without wait- 
ing for help, and rushed in to say good-bye, 
not forgetting Bridget, who shed tears at seeing 
them go. Then the wagon rolled away, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Forester returned to the dining- 
room and the dinner which Bridget had kept 
hot for them, and the house seemed very still. 

“ I do feel sorry for Bridget,” said Mrs. For- 
ester in a low tone ; “she will miss Ellen terri- 
bly; the afternoon will be long to her.” 

“If you can spare her, why not give her a 
holiday and let her visit her aunt ? ” 

“I will; she has had her dinner and can go 
now if she wishes,” and Mrs. Forester arose and 
went to the kitchen. 

“Bridget,” she said, “you did so nicely to- 
day with the dinner that you may have this 
afternoon to go out. Is there any place you 
would like to go ? ” 

“Indade, and there is,” said the girl, her 
eyes bright with happiness; “me cousin is 


58 Grandma Elliots Farrnhoase. 

coming from the ould country this week, and 
its glad I would be to go to my aunt’s to-day 
and see if she is corned. She is just the age of 
me.” 

“You can go right now if you wish, and 
need not come back until evening. I will get 
the supper.” 

“ Thank you ! thank you ! ” cried the de- 
lighted Bridget, as she flew up to her room to 
get dressed for the visit. 

“ It takes very little to make some persons 
happy,” said Mr. Forester, as he helped him- 
self to another one of the fine apples from Mrs. 
Elliot’s farm by way of dessert ; “ a trifle of 
money might help to her enjoyment of the 
holiday.” 

“Yes; but I think a share of the good things 
that mother sent would please her better and 
be of far more use as a gift to her aunt,” re- 
plied Mrs. Forester ; and before Bridget came 
down she had decided what that share should 
be — a large slice of the good butter, a square 
of the honey, a third of the pound cake, a 
third of the cheese, a can of preserves and one 
of apple-butter, and all the spare places in the 
basket filled in with apples. All this was done 
with the help of Mr. Forester. Then he left 
for the store, and Mrs. Forester brought little 
Carl down to dinner, he having just waked 


59 


Off to the Country, 

from his long morning sleep. Bridget’s de- 
light was freely expressed when she saw the 
basket, and she hoped the cousin had come, 
“ for it’s the illegant supper aunt can have for 
her this evening,” she said between a smile and 
a tear. Then, with many thanks, she took up 
the basket and went, and when she came back 
in the evening she was in the same gleeful state 
of mind, for the cousin had come, and never 
enjoyed a supper more; “and it’s foine com- 
pany she’ll be for me,” added Bridget, and 
Mrs. Forester was glad for her sake. 


CHAPTER Y. 


m THE WAGON. 


HE travelers were in the meantime enjoy- 



I ing the journey to the country. Farmer 
Watson was excellent company, willing to help 
entertain them when called upon, and allowing 
them to make the whole of the long wagon, ex- 
cept a seat for himself, into as many different 
places of amusement as they wished. 

Sometimes it was a school-room, with hats 
hanging on the pegs on the side next the door, 
as Sally informed them was the rule at her 
school, aud the dollies were all there, quiet 
and obedient. Again it was a garden with 
plants in the ground and in pots; then again 
it was a kitchen in which all were busily en- 
gaged getting supper, the dollies always on 
hand. 

“Papa, let us get out in the next woods we 
come to and get real flowers for our garden,” 
said Sally. 

“ Certainly you may, it will rest you and the 
horses too;” and it was not long until they 
came to a brook with woods on either side of 


61 


In the Wagon. 

the road, and all declared it was the very spot 
they were looking for. 

“We will let the horses have a good drink, 
and then I will drive through the brook and 
stop under the great oak on the other side and 
help you all out,” said Farmer Watson, and 
they agreed it was the very best plan. 

“Why do you let the horses stand in the 
water when they have drank enough ? ” asked 
Ellen. 

“Because it cools and refreshes them; see 
how they seem to love it. But they have 
stood long enough ; come Barney ; come Peter, 
you shall have some grass on the other side,” 
and he chirruped to the gentle creatures, and 
they obeyed the lightest touch of their kind 
care-taker’s hand, and left the water. 

He drove under the shade of the great oak, 
lifted the children out, and they ran with glad 
shouts to a great bank of violets which grew in 
the shade close to the brook which ran through 
the woods on the right of the road, crossed the 
road and was lost to sight in the woods on 
the left. 

Happy as they were in the wagon they wel- 
comed the delight of breathing the fragrant air 
of the cool, moist woods, listening to the song 
of birds, and seeing bright- eyed squirrels run- 
ning swiftly over the ground and up the trees. 


62 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

All was new to Sophie, it was her first visit 
to the country, and it offered so much of inter- 
est that she thought she could never grow 
weary of it. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to eat our supper in a 
woods,” said the practical little Sally. 

‘•'Yes,” agreed Ellen, eagerly, “let us ask 
your father if we may,” and she ran to the oak 
tree, under the shade of which he was sitting, 
and asked, the others following and waiting to 
hear the answer. 

“Yes,” he said, “I think it would be a good 
idea; we will stop at a shady woods a few 
miles further on, which will make it about five 
o’clock, a very good time for supper, though, 
if I am not much mistaken, you little ones have 
been eating pretty much all the afternoon.” 

They laughed and ran away, and had a fine 
game of “Puss wants a corner,” and then he 
called them and said they must be moving on. 

They ran and hopped into the wagon without 
help, and as soon as they were again On the 
road, made plans for the coming supper. 

“We will take out my stool for a table and 
put my dishes on it,” said Sally, “ and we will 
sit around it on the grass, that will be the very 
nicest way.” 

“What are you going to do with me?” asked 
Mr. Watson. 


63 


In the Wagon. 

“ Why, papa, you can sit at the foot of a tree, 
and we will carry fresh water to you in my 
pitcher, and we will drink out of my little cups 
and let you have the glass.” 

“Is water all you are to give me?” he asked, 
with pretended anxiety. 

They all laughed at his look, and Sally said, 
“you know that you like plenty of cool water, 
papa; but we will give you all you want of 
other things.” 

Mr. Watson said he was glad that he was to 
be one of them when it came to the item of 
supper, and in an hour they came to the woods, 
and the wagon stopped under the shade of a 
great oak close by a stream of water. Here 
the horses were allowed to rest and drink and 
eat the oats which Mr. Watson had brought in 
the wagon, and crop the young sweet grass that 
grew at the edge of the stream. 

The girls were in the meantime busily setting 
out the supper, the empty milk jug, when 
rinsed, served well to carry water from the 
stream, and they ate and chatted, and Sally 
said they were like a party of gypsies that 
camped in Mr. Elliot’s woods the summer before. 

By the time they finished the sun was get- 
ting low in the west, and its ruby beams lighted 
the grass and moss and low-growing plants, 
and made the dark trunks of the trees seem 
edged with crimson. 


64 Grandma Elliotts Farmhouse. 

“It is lovely! so lovely!” said tlie beauty- 
loving Sophie. 

“But it won’t look this way but a little 
while,” said Sally, “ you ought to see a woods 
on a dark rainy night, if you want to get 
scared,” 

“ AVere you ever in a woods at night? ” asked 
Ellen. 

“Yes, papa and I once got lost in a big 
woods one dark night; papa was driving a 
quiet old horse, and he just let him have his 
own way, and I was so scared that I just hung 
on to papa’s arm and cried until the horse 
brought us out on the road, then we could see 
where we were.” 

“What were you afraid of?” asked Sophie, 
looking about her. 

“ I thought the wheels of the carriage might 
run over a stump and we would upset; and I 
guess papa was afraid of that too, weren’t you, 
papa?” 

“ There was danger of it, that is certain, for 
I had never been in that woods, and took it for 
a shorter way, instead of keeping to the main 
road.” 

As soon as supper was finished the little 
women packed up the dishes, placed them back 
in their box, and prepared for moving on. 

“If all goes well we will reach the farm in 


65 


In the Wagon. 

less than three hours,” said Mr. Watson, as he 
helped them into the wagon. 

‘'Then we will see grandma,” cried Ellen, 
joyously; “oh, won’t she be glad!” 

“Tell me about her,” said Sophie, “does she 
look like your mother?” 

“Oh! she is older than mamma, and uses a 
dear little white cap, and it has no strings, and 
she wears gray dresses, and a little white shawl 
crossed on her breast, so ; but she is good and 
kind like mamma.” 

“ Is the house pretty ? ” continued Sophie. 

“I guess it is pretty,” said Sally. “It is a 
great big stone house, with a portico in front, 
and a large porch back, and both have roses 
and honeysuckles running up their sides.” 

“Are there any other flowers, Sally?” 

“Yes; there is a big garden back of the 
house, and all kinds of flowers grow there ; and 
there is an arbor down there with benches in 
it, and back of it are raspberries and black- 
berries and currants and gooseberries, and Mrs. 
Elliot will let you have all you want.” 

“Will she let you have some too, Sally?” 

“ Yes, if I want them, but we have plenty at 
home.” 

“ Where is your house? ” 

“Just across a fleld, unless you go around 
by the road.” 


66 


Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 


“ Wouldn’t you rather live in the big house ? ” 

“ Why, what is the use of that when I can 
go there as much as I please?” and Sally was 
much amused that any one would imagine for 
a moment that she could be dissatisfied with 
her home. 

“What kind of a house is yours, Sally?” 

“I will tell you,” said Ellen, “it is a pretty 
white house, not nearly so large as grandma’s, 
but, oh! it is nice and cool, with a great chest- 
nut tree in the front yard, with a swing for 
Sally and her little sister on one of the great 
branches.” 

“ Is there a garden ? ” 

“Yes,” said Sally, eagerly, “and we have 
flowers, too, and then there is a great big 
garden with cabbage and beets, and lots of 
other things growing in it.” 

“Don’t you have potatoes?” asked Sophie, 
who was very fond of that vegetable. 

“ Oh, they grow out in the field, like turnips 
and melons, the garden is not big enough to 
hold them all.” 

“Have you fruit?” asked Ellen, who was 
very fond of it. 

“Yes, plenty of apples, and oh, Ellen, down 
by the bars that lead into the meadow there is 
a pear tree with great big, juicy pears, and the 
tree is always full 1 ” 


In the Wagon. 


67 


“Is it full now?” asked Sophie. 

“O Sophie!” laughed Sally, “why, it is only 
in bloom ; the pears won’t be ripe until — oh 1 a 
long time from now.” 

“ Does your papa let you have all the pears 
you want? ” 

“Yes; Iran down there every morning as 
soon as I am up and washed and dressed, and 
pick up the nice ripe pears that fall from the 
tree in the night.” 

“ Don’t you give your papa and mother any ; 
isn’t it his tree ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; papa, is it your tree ? ” 

“No ; all the fruit and the house and garden 
belongs to Mrs. Elliot, but we have the use of 
it.” 

“ Which is just the same,” said the contented 
Sally; “what is the difference so we get all we 
want? ” 

“Has your grandmother a swing, Ellen?” 
asked Sophie. 

“Yes, indeed. O Sophie, there is a great 
willow tree at one end of the house, and under 
it was my and Sally’s play-house last summer; 
and on one of the great branches there is a 
swing, grandma had it put up for us, didn’t 
she, Sally?” 

The little girl nodded; she was just then 
eating an apple, her mouth was full and she 
had been trained not to speak at that time. 


68 Grandma Elliot's Farynhouse. 

“And oh, Sophie, you will like the barn; 
there are so many places for hens to steal their 
nests, and it is such fun to find them. Sally 
and I always looked for the eggs, both at 
grandma’s barn and the one down at Sally’s. 
You can help, too, and we will see who will 
find the most nests. And grandma lets us 
feed the chickens, and ducks, and goslings.” 

Sophie was eager to enter into all these de- 
lights, so new to her, but school was the most 
important of all. 

“Can we go to school to-morrow?” she 
asked. 

“ Yes, I am going all the time,” replied Sally, 
but papa and mamma said I might stay from 
there this one day to go to Baltimore, but I 
must go to-morrow.” 

“Where is the school-house?” 

“ It is at the other end of the village from 
Mrs. Elliot’s ; about three fields off.” 

“What is the name of it?” 

“Just school-house; I never heard any other 
name for it.” 

“ But it ought to have a name like the school- 
houses in Baltimore. There is Number 1, 
and Number 5, and Number 17, and plenty 
more. Mamma says ours is Primary.” 

“Which school are you and Sophie going 
to ? ” asked Sally. 


69 


In the Wagon. 

‘‘To Number 1, because it is nearest, and 
mamma knows the teachers, and loves them.” 

“ Is there more than one teacher? ” 

“Oh, Sophie,” laughed Ellen, “she says ‘is 
there more than one teacher’ in Number 1.” 

“But we will go to only one,” said Sophie, 
“ and she is the principal.” 

“Do you know her?” asked Sally. 

“Yes, and love her, and aunty says all the 
teachers are lovely ladies.” 

“Mamma says it is our duty to like the 
teachers, but I would like Miss Wood whether 
it was a duty or not.” 

“ Is she pretty ? ” 

“Yes; she has curly brown hair, and blue 
eyes, and is fair, and has pretty red cheeks.” 

“Do you go every day?” 

“Yes, every day.” 

“If it rains? ” 

“ Yes ; what do I care for a little rain.” 

“ Do you go past grandma’s house ? ” 

“Yes, right past the big gate and the little 
gate.” 

“Then you will stop for us, won’t you, 
Sally?” 

“ Yes, of course I will ; that will be nothing 
to do.” 

“Do you come home for your dinner? ” 

“No indeed, it takes too much time; I carry 


70 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

it in a little basket ; and your grandmother will 
put up dinner for you.” 

“ Where do you put your basket when you get 
to school? ” 

“There is a long shelf right over the pegs 
where the clothes hang, and dinner baskets and 
buckets are put there.” 

“ Clothes, what kind of clothes ? ” asked So- 
phie. 

“Why, our hats, and cloaks, or shawls, if it 
is cool weather.” 

“Where do you play? ” 

“ Oh, there’s lots of places ; there is a woods 
all around the school -house, except just in 
front, and that is a big yard, and has some tall 
trees in it. We do have such fun at noon 
playing games.” 

“Don’t you have recess?” 

“Yes, and we play games then, but we can’t 
run so far in the woods as at noon, so play in 
the yard.” 

“What girls do you like best at school?” 
asked Ellen. 

“I like them all well enough, but Jennie 
Wilson and Maggie Howell like me more than 
the other girls do, so I like them.” 

“ What makes you think they like you bet- 
ter than the other girls do ? ” 

“I ’spect it is because they always run to 


In the Wagon, 


71 


meet me when they see me coming. Some- 
times I take apples and pears to them.” 

“Don’t you take any to the other girls?” 

“No, they have apples at home; I only take 
to girls who have no apple and pear trees, be- 
cause they live in a village and have only a 
house and garden.” 

After a little time Farmer Watson noticed 
that the children had stopped talking. The 
sun had set an hour or more, the roll of wheels 
and the gentle motion of the wagon had soothed 
the little travelers to sleep. He spread a 
blanket over them, and with their dolls in their 
arms, they slept on until lifted from the wagon 
at the gate of Grandma Elliot’s farmhouse. 


CHAPTEK YI. 


GRANDMA ORGANIZES AN H. H. SOCIETY. 

T he next morning it was raining fast, and 
with the prospect of continuing all day. 
Ellen and Sophie were sleeping soundly in 
the pretty room adjoining that of Mrs. Elliot, 
where she had placed them the night before in 
a comfortable bed, too sleepy to know that they 
had reached their journey’s end. 

‘‘ I will not think of sending them to school 
for the first time such a day as this,” said Mrs. 
Elliot to Hulda, the middle-aged woman who 
lived with her, “ but will let them sleep as long 
as they will.” 

‘‘Yes, it will shorten their day,” replied Hul- 
da, “ we may expect them to get homesick.” 

“I have no dread of that with Ellen, for she 
is a happy little creature and loves the country ; 
at the same time she has never been here with- 
out her mother until now. I have no idea how 
the rainy day will affect Sophie.” 

“But she has no mother to grieve after.” 
“No, Mrs. Endicott is her aunt, but she has 
cared for her as tenderly as a mother. It will, 
I fear, seem very dull to the child until she 


Grandma Organizes an II. II. Society. 73 

gets acquainted with us and the children at 
school.” 

“Sally will go to school to-day no matter 
how it rains, and will stop to see if the children 
are going.” 

“If she does, Hulda, ask her to stop on her 
way back to take tea with the children ; and if 
you see Mr. Watson this morning tell him that 
she will stay, that they may not be anxious.” 

“ I will watch for him, but if I don’t see him, 
Sally can run home and tell them she is invited 
to tea.” 

“ Yes, I do not think she will mind the little 
walk back.” 

“ Not when there are two playmates at the end 
of it.” 

The breakfast was scarcely finished when 
there was a gentle tap at the door, and Sally, 
with dripping shawl and umbrella stood with- 
out. 

“I am glad to see you, Sally,” said Mrs. El- 
liot, “ but the children are not awake yet, and 
will not go to school to-day. You can stop on 
your way back, and if we see your father, will 
ask if you can stay to tea.” 

“ I told mamma I was going to stop, going 
and coming,” said Sally, joyously, “and I asked 
her if I might stay if you invited me, and she 
said I might.” 


74 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

“ Then that is settled, and I will tell the chil- 
dren to expect you.” 

Sally went on her way cheerily, and Hulda 
had all her morning’s work finished before the 
children made their appearance, washed and 
dressed, and their hair plaited neatly, they 
having helped each other, and very proud of 
having accomplished it without the aid of older 
persons ; they felt that they were really visiting 
on their own basis. 

“Will we go to school, grandma?” asked 
Ellen ; “ see, we are all ready.” 

“No, dear, it is too wet, besides, it is too 
late ; Sally was here an hour ago on her way to 
school.” 

“Oh, was she? And we did not see her,” 
and the children looked disappointed. 

“But she is to stop on her way back, and 
will take tea with us.” 

“ Oh, grandma, that is splendid,” said Ellen, 
clapping her hands with dehght. “ Sophie, we 
will have a play-house ready by the time she 
comes,” and the two clasped arms and whirled 
around the room in their joy. 

“ Must we stay from school every time it 
rains, grandma?” asked Ellen, when she recov- 
ered her breath. 

“No, Mr. Watson cannot work much on 
rainy days, and he can put one of the horses to 


Grandma Organizes an II. H. Society. 75 

the light wagon and take Sally and you two 
children.” 

There was another whirl around the room 
upon hearing this, and by this time Hulda had 
a good little breakfast for them. 

“ Oh, Hulda, do please let us eat off the ta- 
ble with claw-feet, that grandma gave me last 
summer, won’t you ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, I don’t care, if Mrs. Elliot is willing.” 

“ May we, grandma ? ” 

“Certainly, and here is a table-cloth,” and 
she took a square linen cloth from the side- 
board drawer and gave to them. 

Hulda gave them the smallest plates, cups, 
and saucers and cutlery that could be collected 
on short notice, and they sat down to the meal 
as happy as it was possible to be. 

Hulda baked very small corn meal pan- cakes 
for them, and gave them a little dish of butter, 
and another of honey, and poached eggs, and 
was gratified to see that her effort to please 
them was a success. 

“Now you can take the dishes out to Hulda,” 
said Mrs. Elliot, when they finished breakfast, 
“she is making bread, and we must not stop 
her.” 

'Kie girls were quick to obey ; the table was 
cleared quickly, the cloth folded, the little ta- 
ble put to its place; then they went to see 


76 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

Hulda putting the dough in the pans ready for 
baking. 

“ Oh, Hulda, do please let us have a little 
loaf for ourselves,” said Ellen. 

“Of course you may,” said the kind woman, 
and getting two little tin plates, she gave them 
each a lump of dough. “But you must first 
wash your hands,” she said. 

“ But we did,” said Sophie, in surprise ; “ we 
washed them with soap before we came down 
stairs.” 

“Yes, but we are going to make bread, and 
the first rule is, wash your hands.” 

The children laughed and ran to the sink, 
washed and dried their hands, and were ready 
for work. 

“Here is a piece of dough for a loaf for 
Sally, and a tin plate to bake it on,” said 
Hulda. 

“Oh, yes, Sally must have bread, and oh, 
Hulda, will you let us eat at our littl i table this 
dinner-time ? ” 

“I think it would be more polite to eat with 
your grandma ; you see you were not up in time 
to eat with her this morning. But when you 
play dinner or supper, then you can have your 
little table.” 

The children saw the wisdom of this, and 
what with getting a play-house ready in a cor- 


Grandma Organizes an H, II. Society. 77 

ner of the large dining-room, and watching 
the baking of their three loaves, they felt they 
wonld have a busy day. 

“I should think you would like to have a 
little pie apiece for your dinners,” said Hulda, 
“ you may have dough for crust, and chopped 
apples.” 

“Will we, Sophie?” asked Ellen, eagerly. 

“Yes, and let us make one for Sally.” 

“Here are three little patty-pans,” said 
Hulda, taking them from the cupboard, “it 
would be a good idea for you to make them to 
take to school to-morrow for your dinners. 
You can give Sally her’s this evening.” 

The children thought it an excellent idea, 
and as Hulda wished to use the rolling-pin, 
she gave them empty catsup bottles to roll their 
crusts with, and they were quite satisfied. 

“Must we grease the dishes for the pies as 
we did for the loaves of bread?” asked Sophie. 

“No, it is a poor pie that won’t grease its 
own dish — always remember that.” 

Thus the short morning was happily spent, 
the play-house was ready for the coming of 
Sally, Hulda had baked the bread and pies in 
a perfect manner, and they had enjoyed a good 
dinner prepared by the same careful hand. 

“ I am going up to my room now,” said Mrs. 
Elliot,” would you like to go with me ? ” 


78 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

“Yes, grandma, and will you let us look in 
your little boxes in the bureau?” 

“Yes, certainly; it will be something for you 
to do this rainy day.” 

They ran up the stairs, and when they came 
to her room, waited until she came and opened 
the lower drawer for them. Ellen had not seen 
the things in it for a year, and Sophie had 
never seen them, and Mrs. Elliot enjoyed their 
chatter as they looked over the contents of each 
box. 

“Here is the box that holds my chain,” said 
Ellen, taking up one in the shape of a star and 
covered with tiny shells, “and here is my 
chain,” and she held up a fine gold chain of a 
single strand and small clasp ; “ grandma, please 
tell Sophie about it.” 

“That little chain is more than a hundred 
years old, Sophie,” said Mrs. Elliot. “ It be- 
longed to my great grandmother, and my great 
grandfather clasped it about her neck the morn- 
ing he bade her farewell to go to battle in the 
war of the Revolution. She gave it to me and 
I gave it to Ellen, who is my namesake, but 
will keep it until she is old enough to take care 
of it.” 

“ These buttons were on the coat her grand- 
father wore wEen he went into battle,” said El- 
len, taking them in her hand. 


Grandma Organizes an H. II. Society. 79 

“Yes, they are for your baby brother, I am 
keeping them for him.” 

“But, grandma, what are these dear little 
cards for, I never saw them before?” asked El- 
len, taking four small squares of pink-tinted 
ivorine, with pink silk cord attached, and tlie 
letters C. E. engraved upon them. 

“Your Aunt Lizzie belongs to a Christian 
Endeavor Society which meets in the church in 
the village, and these little cards were given to 
those who became members.” 

“ Could little girls like Sophie and me belong 
to it? ” asked Ellen, eagerly. 

“There are societies for little people, but 
there has not, as yet, been one organized in 
Edgermond.” 

“I wish Sophie and I could belong; tell us 
all about it, grandma, please.” 

Mrs. Elliot took the C. E. pledge from the 
drawer and explained the meaning of the sen- 
tences upon it. 

“ You could have a little society of your own, 
and we could give it the name of ‘The Help- 
ing Hand.’ I have pieces of ivorine from which 
I will cut little cards and print H. H. upon 
them, and upon the backs I will write a little 
pledge.” 

“Oh, that will be splendid; can Sally join, 
too?” 


80 Oraiidma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

“Yes, we will make a card for Sally.” 

“For Cousin Leo, too; can boys belong to 
The Helping Hand Society ? ” 

“Yes, as many as are willing to become mem- 
bers.” 

“What will you write on the back of the 
cards, grandma?” 

“A pledge which I think will not be too dif- 
ficult for little people like you to keep. I think 
these words : ‘ I promise to try to be helpful to 
everybody, and do all the good I can every day.’ 
Will you agree to this? ” 

“ Yes, I will ; will you, Sophie? ” 

Sophie nodded yes, she was quite as much 
pleased as was Ellen. To belong to a society 
made them feel of account in the world. 

“Oh, grandma, when you write our pledges 
and Sally’s, please write Cousin Leo’s, and let 
me send it to him in a letter?” said Ellen. 

“I will, indeed, and will write them as soon 
as Sally comes and we explain to her what we 
are intending. There she is now; I hear her 
footsteps on the porch, and, of course, she is 
very wet in this heavy rain. You have a chance 
now to do good, help Sally to be dry and com- 
fortable.” 

The children sprang up, ran down stairs to 
welcome Sally, helped remove her wet wrap- 
pings, and took them to the kitchen where 


Grandma Organizes an II. II. Society. 81 

Hulda placed them about the glowing stove. 
Then Sophie ran to her trunk for a pair of dry 
stockings, and Ellen for a dress and shoes, and 
in a few minutes Sally almost forgot that she 
had been wet. 

“ Come up to grandma’s room, Sally, we have 
something to tell you,” and joining hands they 
sped up the steps. 

As they had thought, Sally was delighted to 
become a member of the Junior H. H., and the 
three proudly accepted the cards upon which 
Mrs. Elliot had neatly written the sentence, “ I 
promise to try to be helpful to everybody, and 
do all the good I can every day.” 

“When will we send Cousin Leo’s pledge to 
him, grandma ? ” said Ellen. 

“I am intending to write to his mother on 
Monday, and we can put in a letter for him 
with the card in it.” 

The next morning was clear and beautiful, 
and the three happy little girls went to the 
school-house in the woods> where Miss Woods, 
the teacher, received them kindly. 

Sally’s friends, Jennie and Maggie, soon be- 
came Ellen’s and Sophie’s, and they planned to 
eat their dinners together in the woods at noon, 
then the bell rang, and all ran into school. 

“Children, the rain of yesterday has made 
the woods very damp,” said Miss Wood, when 


82 Grandma EUiofs Farmhouse. 

the clock struck twelve, “I do not wish you to 
play there this noon, but in the yard and school- 
house.” 

Sally saw the look of disappointment in the 
faces of Ellen and Sophie, and the moment 
they were dismissed, she, remembering her 
pledge, hurried to tell them that they would 
have a good time playing, for they could make 
as much noise as they pleased in the school- 
room on days that they could not go to the 
woods ; and they found that she was right. 

They played “hide and seek,” and “puss 
wants a corner,” and the teacher ate her lun- 
cheon at the desk and read undisturbed by the 
noise. 

It was surprising how quickly Ellen and So- 
phie got acquainted with the others, and felt at 
home with them ; so much so that Ellen told 
Jennie Wilson, Maggie Howell, and several 
others, of her gold chain, and all that her 
grandma had told her of it. 

“ Bring it to school to-morrow and let us see 
it,” said Jennie, and the others united in the 
request. 

“I will,” replied Ellen, glad to gratify those 
who had made her so welcome among them. 

Grandma,” she said, as soon as she reached 
the farmhouse that evening, “may I take my 
chain to-morrow to show to the girls ? ” 


Grandma Organizes an II. II. Society. 83 

“ The clasp is not strong, dear ; I am afraid 
it would come loose, and the chain would drop 
from your neck.” 

“ But I will carry it my hand, grandma ; I 
need not put it on my neck.” 

“There would be more risk losing it that way 
than by wearing it.” 

“ But, grandma, I promised ; what will the 
girls think of me if I don’t keep my word?” 
and tears came into Ellen’s eyes. 

“You may wear it, dear, I will clasp it on 
your neck, but I must add that you should not 
have promised without asking me if I were will- 
ing for you to wear it.” 

“ But, grandma, you gave it to me, I thought 
I could wear it at any time I chose.” 

“ I am not surprised that you thought so, but 
I will say it now, that as you promised you may 
wear it to-morrow, and then not again until 
you are older, and know how to take care of it, 
and before that time I will have the clasp 
strengthened,” and with this the little girl was 
satisfied. 

“Now, my little Ellen,” said Mrs. Elliot the 
next morning as she clasped the chain about 
the plump neck, “ I think there will be no dan- 
ger of losing it if you don’t unclasp it, so I ask 
you not to take it off until you come home from 
school this evening.” 


84 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

It was a very proud little girl that reached 
the play-ground that morning, and Sally was 
equally proud to be in the company of such 
a pretty and noted piece of jewelry. 

“Oh, Sally, what do you think!” cried one 
of the girls, joyously, as all who were in the 
play-ground ran to meet the three; Miss Wood 
says if we study real well she will take us at 
two o’clock upon a walk to the Chrome quar- 
ries.” 

This was such charming news that Ellen for- 
got her chain, but Jennie did not, especially as 
she saw it glistening upon Ellen’s neck, and all 
clustered about her to admire it. 

“It is such a sweet little chain,” said Mag- 
gie, “ do take it off, Ellen, and let us see it in 
our hands.” 

“No, the clasp is not strong, and grandma 
told me not to take it off.” 

“I guess she knows it is plated,” remarked 
Sarah Parsons, “that is the reason she will not 
let us have the chance to look at it.” 

“No it is not,” said Sally, “it was made in 
the ’Lutionary War.” 

Little Sally was not versed on the subject, 
but her love and loyalty to her friend prompted 
her to give all the help she could. 

“ Even if it is not plated,” said Sarah, scorn- 
fully, “it is so light that there is not much 


Grandma Organizes an H. II. Society. 85 

gold in it; but I saw one exactly like it, and it 
was plated.” 

This was too much for Ellen ; she forgot her 
grandmother’s request, but unclasped the chain 
and laid it in Sarah’s hand. She looked at it 
closely; it was passed from one to another, 
then the bell rang for school, one of the girls 
clasped the chain quickly about Ellen’s neck, 
and all ran in. 

Eecess came, and all ran to the play-ground, 
and were soon deeply interested in games 
which required much running. The time 
passed all too quickly, and when the ten min- 
utes were out, and they were back in the school- 
room Sarah made a discovery. 

‘‘Where is your chain?” she asked, “it is 
not on your neck.” 

Ellen put her hand to her head, found it was 
gone, and burst into tears. Sarah was not at 
all sorry, nor did she offer to help search for it. 
The others would have done all they could, 
but recess was over, and they had to take up 
their lessons. 

“Why are you crying, Ellen?” asked the 
teacher, kindly. 

“I have lost the neck-chain that grandma 
gave me.” 

Miss Wood kindly allowed two of the girls to 
go with her to the yard to search for it, but 


86 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

could not find it. They all helped search at 
noon, except Sarah, but the chain was not found ; 
and when two o’clock came Ellen felt that she 
could not go to the Chrome quarries, she must 
go home and tell her grandma. 

Mrs. Elliot was very sorryj but she saw that 
Ellen was deeply distressed, and did not add 
to her grief; at the same time she saw a les- 
son in it for the little girl which she thought 
should not be overlooked. 

“It all came from your disobedience, my 
child,” she said earnestly; “disobedience was 
the very first sin that was committed upon this 
earth ; it was followed by evil consequences to 
the whole human race, and disobedience to 
parents brings trouble to all children.” 

“Who was the first person that was disobe- 
dient grandma?” asked Ellen, looking up 
through her tears. 

“It was Eve, in the Garden of Eden, where 
our kind Father in heaven had placed her and 
Adam — our first parents. He gave them that 
beautiful home, with all the fruit they could 
desire, and asked of them not to eat the fruit 
of but one tree ; but Eve disobeyed, she ate of 
the fruit and gave it to Adam.” 

“Did our Father in heaven punish them, 
grandma ? ” 

“Yes, he turned them from the garden for 


Grandma Organizes an II. II. Society. 87 

their disobedience; punishment of some kind 
always follows disobedience.” 

Ellen’s tears flowed again at remembrance of 
the lost chain, and Mrs. Elliot tried to comfort 
her with the hope of flnding it the next day. 

The children in the meantime had a charm- 
ing visit to the Chrome quarries, where they 
saw the whole process of getting the ore from 
the earth, and heard from Miss Wood its many 
uses, gathered by her from encyclopedias and 
other sources. She read to them that it is the 
material from which chromic acid is made, and 
that chromic acid makes a beautiful green color, 
used in printing bank notes, in staining glass, 
painting porcelain, and for many other purposes, 
and mixed with other compounds, makes many 
beautiful colors used in printing calicoes. 

All this was deeply interesting to the chil- 
dren, and no one would have enjoyed it more 
than Ellen, who passed an unhappy afternoon 
because of the lost chain. 

The next day and the next, search was kept 
up at every play -time, but without result, Sarah 
Parsons being the only one who made no effort 
to find it. 

“If she belonged to our Helping Hand So- 
ciety she would help me to look for it,” said 
Ellen to Sophie one night before going to sleep. 

“ Yes, she would,” responded Sophie. 


CHAPTEE YII. 


SEVERAL TOTTNO HEROES. 

EO had, as a rule, passed at least two 



1 A evenings at his Uncle Forester’s each 
week, playing games with Ellen and Sophie 
until his early bed-time, and he missed them 
very much, now that they were out in the coun- 
try. His grandfather, knowing this, sat in his 
room those evenings and told him of times 
when he was a boy, and Leo would tell him of 
his teachers and his studies, particularly his 
Sunday-school teacher. Miss Ashton. One 
evening he had quite an incident to relate of 
her, which interested his grandfather very 
much. He had been to her home to take her a 
message, and, while he was on the door-step 
talking to her, a boy, who was a stranger to 
both of them, stopped and asked her if she was 
Miss Ashton. She replied that it was her 
name, and the boy said : “ They want you 
down at the station-house ; somebody is hurt.” 

“Is it my father or brother ? ” Miss Ashton 
asked, turning very pale. 

“ I don’t know if it is your brother ; it is a 
boy about the size of me.” 


89 


Several Young Heroes, 

“ Who is he, and how is he hurt ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know his name ; he can’t talk : he 
was run over by a bicycle.” 

‘‘ Then who sent you for me, and why ? ” 

“ The police sent me ; they found your name 
in his pocket.” 

The boy had told all he knew, and ran back 
to the station-house. 

‘‘I wish you would go with me, Leo,” said 
Miss Ashton, turning to him ; “ are you sure 
that vour mother would be willing to have you 
go?” 

“Yes, I am sure of it ; she would want me to 
go if she knew you asked me.” 

“You will do me a great favor, and I shall be 
much obliged.” 

They hurried away, and soon reached the 
station-house, only three squares away, and 
were taken to the settee upon which lay the in- 
jured boy. 

“It is Elmer Ware, one of my Sunday-school 
pupils. Have you sent for a physician ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Yes, Miss,” replied one of the policemen ; 
“ we telephoned ; he will be here very soon.” 

He had scarcely spoken when the doctor 
came, lifted his hat to Miss Ashton, and nodded 
to the policemen standing about. “He is only 
stunned,” he said, cheerfully, after making an 


90 


Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 


examination of tlie insensible boy; “be will be 
all right in a little while.” He gave Elmer 
something to revive him, and in a few minutes 
he opened his eyes, his first glance resting upon 
Miss Ashton. 

“I know the words you gave our class last 
Sunday, teacher,” he said ; “ grandmother 

heard me say them ; I will say them now — 
may I? ” 

“ Yes, say them, my boy,” answered the doc- 
tor heartily ; “ let us hear them.” 

“ What shall I do to inherit eternal life ? ’ 
and the answer is, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ and thou shalt be saved.’ ” 

“Yes, you have remembered the words well,” 
said Miss Ashton, gently. “ Is he able to go to 
his home, doctor ? I will go with him.” 

“ Yes, if he can ride.” 

“ We will go in the car ; it passes his grand- 
mother’s door. Come, Elmer.” 

The boy was quick to obey, and they left the 
station-house and Leo went home. 

“Queer words to hear here, the words that 
little fellow had so pat ; yet somehow they 
make me feel good,” said one policeman to 
another. 

“ What words ? ” 

“‘What shall I do to inherit eternal life?’ 
and the answer to it, ‘ Believe on the Lord 


91 


Several Young Heroes. 

Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.’ It just 
seems that the words were for me.” 

It was not Miss Ashton’s first visit to Elmer’s 
home, nor was she a stranger to the gentle old 
lady who welcomed her. 

“ I am so grateful to you for coming with 
him, and so thankful that he was not badly 
hurt,” she said, as she kissed Elmer’s forehead. 

“It is always a pleasure for me to come 
here,” said Miss Ashton, and, after a few min- 
utes’ conversation, she bade them good-bye 
and went home. 

The next Sunday Leo and Frank Mallory 
were in their places in Sunday-school in time 
to have a little talk before the hour of opening. 

“ I don’t see why the superintendent put that 
Elmer Ware in our class,” said Frank : “ he is 
not in our grade in the public school.” 

“ What is your objection to him ? ” asked 
Miss Ashton, who, coming in at that moment, 
heard the remark. 

“ He is so dull,” said Frank, rather ashamed, 
for he had not wished her to hear it; he has 
no fun in him, and will not get angry no matter 
how much you plague him.” 

“Why do you wish to make him angry? I 
am sure he does nothing to annoy you ; he is 
pleasant and well-bred, neat in dress, and 
studies well, or he could not be in a higher 


92 Grandina Elliot's t armhouse, 

grade in school than yourself. Is it Christlike 
to treat any one so? Is it doing as you would 
be done by? He does not deserve such treat- 
ment. Shall I tell you one of his unselfish 
acts?” 

Frank did not give a very hearty response, 
but Miss Ashton continued : “ My cousin is the 
teacher in Elmer Ware’s class in public school, 
and has great regard for him. She told me last 
evening that the boy who sits next to him is a 
poor writer, and by accident spoiled his pen, 
and was too timid to ask for another. To help 
him Elmer Ware exchanged pens with him, 
and was blamed for his poor writing. It was 
not until school was dismissed that the teacher 
heard from the other boy the cause of Elmer’s 
failure to write as well as usual.” 

Just then Elmer and others of the class came 
in, the bell rang, and the exercises began. 

“Boys,” said Miss Ashton to Leo and Frank, 
when the hour was out, “will you make a call 
with me to-morrow evening?” 

They agreed willingly, and asked what time 
they were to go. 

“I will call at your school for you, as the 
place we are to go is in an opposite direction 
from my home. Tell your parents about it that 
they may not be anxious about you.” 

They promised, and the next evening Miss 


93 


Several Young Heroes. 

Ashton was promptly on hand. They walked 
several squares, and came to the house where 
Elmer Ware lived with his grandmother, and 
Miss Ashton rang the bell. 

The boys were pleased with the sweet-faced 
old lady, to whom Miss Ashton introduced 
them as schoolmates of Elmer. 

“I am sorry my grandson is not in,” she said, 
as she led the way to the beautifully neat and 
comfortable sitting-room, and invited them to 
take seats ; “ he is out selling his evening papers ; 
he g^oes from school to the office for them.” 

“He still sells papers, does he?” said Miss 
Ashton. 

“ Oh, yes, the dear boy does everything he 
can to help me. Since his parents’ death he 
seems to think that he must take care of me and 
his little sister. I am sorry it is so ; I love to 
see young people enjoy life, and be as free from 
care as possible.” 

“And the other trial, does he seem to get 
used to it or to outgrow it?” and Miss Ashton 
glanced at a pretty little girl of about three 
years of age, who was playing with her doll in 
one corner of the room. 

“No, and I fear he never will;” and the 
grandmother’s eyes grew dim with tears. 

“ Do you object to telling these boys of 
Elmer’s trial ? ” asked the teacher. 


94 Grandmu Elliot's Farmhouse. 

“ No ; but I hope they will not mention it to 
Elmer, or let him know in any way that they 
know it.” 

‘‘No, we never will,” said both boys ear- 
nestly. 

“Elmer is a very affectionate and dutiful 
boy,” said the grandmother ; “ and his love for 
his parents and obedience to them was beauti- 
ful. His heart was filled with happiness when 
this little sister came, and when allowed to 
hold her in his arms he was prouder than a 
king. When she commenced to walk he asked 
his mother one day to allow him to take her 
out on the street, and was leading her gently 
along when several dogs got to fighting near 
them. He took her up in his arms and ran, 
but stumbled and fell, and since then httle Syl- 
via’s right arm has hung helpless. It was 
nearly two years ago, and the doctors give us 
no hope that she will ever have the use of it.” 

“ No one blamed him, I am sure,” said Miss 
Ashton. 

“ No ; it would have been cruel, when the 
dear boy had done all he could to protect his 
little sister ; but I fear he will always grieve 
because of the accident. Every penny that he 
can spare goes to provide pleasures or comforts 
for her, and his aim in life is to secure a good 
education that he may help her to the same, 


Several Young Heroes. 95 

and to provide lier with every other advantage 
possible.” 

Miss Ashton saw that Leo and Frank were 
deeply interested. They now looked upon 
Elmer as a hero, and Frank was ashamed that 
he had spoken unjustly of him. She had no 
fear but he would treat Elmer well the next 
time they met. 

Leo had another chapter to add to his story 
of Miss Ashton and Elmer when he got home, 
and his parents and grandfather were much in- 
terested. 

“ It speaks well for the boy that a Christian 
lady hke Miss Ashton appreciates him,” said 
Grandfather Forester. 

“It is just such boys as Elmer Ware that we 
would like you to choose as friends,” added 
Mrs. Forester ; “ and now, Leo, we have a 
pleasant surprise for you.’^ 

“ What is it ? ” he asked, eagerly. 

“A letter for you from your Cousin El- 
len.” 

“ But Cousin Ellen cannot write.” 

“ Her grandmother wrote it for her ; it is in 
one from Mrs. Elliot to me.” 

“ Where is it, mother ? ” 

“Up in your grandfather’s room. We read 
mine ; then grandfather said he would take it 
to his room for you to read; and Leo, you 


96 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

have an invitation to pass all your vacation at 
Grandma Elliot’s farmhouse.” 

This was such joyful news that, in order to 
fully express his delight, he clapped his hands 
against his sides and crowed, at which they all 
laughed until tears of mirth stood in their eyes. 

‘‘ But how am I to get there, mother ? ” he 
asked ; “ is Farmer Watson coming to Balti- 
more in his wagon ? ” 

“No, but a client of your grandfather’s, who 
lives at Edgermond, is coming to see him on 
some law business, and is to take you with him 
in his carriage.” 

Leo ran up-stairs to his grandfather’s room, 
and was poring over the letter when his grand- 
father came in. “I am to go next Thursday, 
grandfather, the very day after school closes,” 
he said, with beaming eyes. 

“ Very good. You should write to your Cou- 
sin Ellen this evening, and tell her to thank 
your grandmother for the kind invitation, and 
tell her you are glad to accept it.” 

“Will you help me with the letter, grand- 
father ? ” 

“ Certainly ; here is paper, pen and ink ; 
you can write now.” 

Leo set to work cheerily, his grandfather 
helping him to word it correctly, and when fin- 
ished advised him to show it to his mother, as 


97 


Several Young Heroes, 

she might wish to send a message in it to Mrs. 
Elliot. Leo obeyed, and Mrs. Forester said it 
was a very good letter indeed. She asked him 
to give her love in it to Ellen and Sophie, and 
her thanks to Mrs. Elliot for her great kindness, 
and also her love. Leo ran back to his grand- 
father’s room to add all she told him, then put 
his letter in the envelope, put Ellen’s address 
upon it, sealed and stamped it, ran down and 
out, and dropped it into the nearest letter-box, 
and he was thus far on his journey to the coun- 
try. 

“Your father and I are going over to your 
Uncle Forester’s after tea,” said his mother 
when he came back ; “ you must be company 
for your grandfather while we are out.” 

“ Yes ; grandfather said if I would study my 
lessons for to-morrow and know them well, he 
would tell me about his great-grandfather, who 
was killed by the Indians. I am going to study 
them now.” 

The lessons were pretty hard for a boy not 
yet eleven years old, but he said them aloud on 
the book and off the book, and by the time 
supper was ready he knew them perfectly. 

“ Kun up and ask your grandfather if he is 
coming down to the library,” said Mrs. Fores- 
ter, when, tea finished, they were about to go 
out ; “ if he is, I will light the lamp before we go.” 


98 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

Leo was quick to obey, and hoped his grand- 
father would choose to stay in his own room. 

‘‘Where would you rather be this evening, 
grandfather ? ” he asked ; “ will mother light 
the library lamp ? ” 

“Where would you rather be?” asked Mr. 
Forester. 

“ Oh, let us stay here in your room ; stories 
always sound better here.” 

“We will; you can go down and tell your 
mother we will not need the lamp.” 

“You tell me that you were reading in school 
of the early settlers of our country and of In- 
dians,” said Mr. Forester, when he returned 
and took one of the large arm-chairs, “and it 
brought to mind that I had never told you of 
my great grandfather who was the last white 
man killed by the Indians in that part of Ken- 
tucky in which he settled, the red men having 
nearly all been driven away. He and his wife 
had gone on horseback to visit a neighbor more 
than a mile distant, and when coming home in 
the evening were so suddenly attacked by three 
Indians that he was unable to battle with them.” 

“Couldn’t she help him any, grandfather?” 

“No, except by riding back to the neighbor’s 
cabin, and telling the family of the attack. He 
and his two grown sons hurried to the spot, but 
the Indians were gone, and my great grand- 


99 


Several Young Heroes. 

father lay dead. They had taken his rifle and 
powder and shot, and no doubt left as quickly 
as possible, fearing an attack.” 

“ Did your great grandmother live in the same 
place after that ? ” 

“ Yes ; at first she thought she could not, but 
her two sons could cultivate the ground, could 
hunt squirrels and catch rabbits and fish for 
food, and she did not know what better to do. 
They raised what sheep and other domestic 
animals they could save from wild beasts by 
building high fences to protect them at night. 
O my dear boy ! the early settlers of your beau- 
tiful and beloved country had many trials and 
hardships.” 

“ Were there any wolves there, grandfather? ” 

‘‘Yes, and panthers. One time the boys 
killed a lamb, and the mother wished to send a 
quarter of it to her good neighbor. She put 
the two younger children upon a quiet old 
horse, and, with the meat in a sack in front of 
them, they set out. 

“In going through the woods, something 
sprang down from the limb of a tree and drag- 
ged the sack to the ground, and carried it off. 

“ The children, though sorry for the loss of 
the meat, were not frightened, for they thought 
it was a dog, but put the old horse to a gallop, 
and soon were at the cabin of their neighbor 
and told their story.” 


100 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse, 

‘‘It is a panther!” the father and sons said, 
in a breath, and with rifles in hand they went to 
the place, and soon returned with the dead 
panther, rejoicing over the escape of the chil- 
dren.” 

“Did they have any other escapes, grand- 
father?” asked Leo, after some time spent in 
thought over the story of the panther. 

“Yes, dear, and my grandfather used to say 
that their dangers and escapes made God seem 
very near to them, proving that he was caring 
for them, and they had Christian faith in his 
word that he would be a father to the father- 
less.” 

“Tell me some more that your grandfather 
told you, please.” 

“Yes, I will tell you of the narrow escape 
from death of his eldest sister. The daughter 
of their neighbor, a young girl near her own 
age, came to pass the night with her. The two 
girls slept in a small room on the lower floor, 
while the mother and the two younger children 
had one of the rooms overhead, and the two 
older boys the other, one of whom was my 
grandfather. It was summer, and the one 
window of the girl’s room was open, it being so 
close to a small building used as a weaving- 
room that it could not be seen from the outside 
of the cabin ; and although the girls had never 


Several Young Heroes. 101 

before slept there they had no thought of 
danger. 

“Past midnight the daughter of the house 
was awakened by hearing the low cry and the 
stealthy step of a panther, which had scented 
prey, but could not find it. Round and round 
the cabin and weaving-room he crept, while she 
kept perfectly still, knowing that the least stir 
that still night would be heard by his quick ear. 
At length, when her fright became almost past 
bearing in silence, she heard the sharp crack 
of a rifle, followed by the glad shouts of her 
brothers. They, too, had been listening, and 
having waited for a good chance had sent a 
bullet with such sure aim that the panther lay 
dead upon the grass in front of the cabin.” 

“But did they never have any fun, grand- 
father ; was there always danger in living 
there?” 

“There is always danger, my boy, where 
there are wild animals, but the early settlers 
had their pleasures, and I will tell you of one 
which my grandfather told me. Once while 
out hunting, the boys killed a mother bear, and 
brought home a baby bear as playmate for a 
puppy, a little larger, but not any stronger than 
the little bear. 

“ The young people had much fun watching 
the antics of these two jolly animals, which soon 


102 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

grew expert at wrestling, and the bear was far 
the more cunning of the two. If he found that 
he was going to win the battle he staid in 
earnest until the dog was whipped ; but if the 
dog seemed likely to win, the bear would turn 
the combat into play. 

“As the bear grew older he began to show 
his savage nature. He grew sullen at times, 
and would not eat and drink, and more than 
once growled and showed his teeth to those 
who were so kind to him. 

“At length one day he drove the family from 
the cabin, and walked to and fro before the 
door, giving low growls. He had grown to full 
size before they realized that he was a wild 
animal that could kill them all if he willed to 
do so. They had fondled him so long as a pet 
that they never thought of fearing him as an 
enemy. 

“ All the long summer afternoon he kept them 
out of the cabin ; but at length, to their relief, 
they heard the two older brothers coming home 
with their rifles upon their shoulders, and called 
to them. The boys saw the danger of coming 
near him while he was in such savage temper, 
so went quietly to the back of the cabin, went 
into the narrow passage between it and the 
weaving-room, crept through the window and 
up the ladder into the room which overlooked 


103 


Several Young Heroes. 

the yard in front of the cabin, and in a few 
seconds the pet they had loved shared the fate 
of the panther. 

“And now good night, dear Leo, and in your 
prayer thank our heavenly Father that you can 
sleep without fearing an attack from Indians or 
wild animals.” 

Leo left the room, and was about to go to 
bed, when he heard his father and mother come 
in, and went down to meet them. 

“Your aunt had a letter from Ellen to-day, 
Leo, and in it was this for you,” and she handed 
him the “ Helping Hand card.” 

“ Why did’nt Cousin Ellen put it in her letter 
to me ? ” asked Leo, looking upon it in pleased 
surprise. 

“ She wished her mother to see it, and says 
that she and Sophie and Sally have each one 
like it, and are trying to live up to the pledge, 
and believe that you will try also. Here is 
Ellen’s letter.” 

Leo read it carefully, looking from time to 
time at the card, and when he finished he said 
to himself, “If I had been with grandfather’s 
grandfather I would have helped him kill that 
bear.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


LEO IN THE COUNTRY. 

T he next Thursday evening found Leo at 
Mrs. Elliot’s farmhouse, where he was 
gladly welcomed, Ellen and Sophie being al- 
lowed to stay up an hour beyond their bed- 
time to see him. The next morning he was up 
early, feeling it to be a waste of time to be in 
bed when the birds were singing, and the fowls 
and every creature on the farm was awake and 
making itself heard. It was not his first visit, 
and he knew the farm and farmhouse as well as 
he did his own home, and loved Mrs. Elliot as 
well as if she had been his own grandmother as 
well as of his Cousin Ellen. 

“We are so glad you have come, Leo,” said 
Ellen when he came into breakfast. “ Sally’s 
cousin, Charlie Medford, is visiting at Mr. Wat- 
son’s, and has his dog Dash, and Sally says he 
was wishing every day that you would come.” 

“ Who was wishing, Charlie or Dash ? ” 
“Why, Charlie; and oh, Leo, you will have 
splendid times in grandma’s woods ; there are 
lots of good things to find there — blackberries 


105 


Leo in the Country. 

and huckleberries, and it is such fun to sail little 
boats on the creek that runs through it.” 

Leo did not wait for a call from Charlie. 
He went that day to Farmer Watson’s, saw 
Charhe and Dash, and the two boys agreed to 
pass the next day in the woods. 

“We won’t cpme back till evening,” said 
Charlie in glee ; “ but will make boats to sail 
on the creek.” 

“Then we must take something to eat,” re- 
plied Leo; “I know that grandma will give us 
one of the good potato custards like the one 
Hulda made for dinner, and you must take 
Dash.” 

In his haste Leo’s speech was something like 
his Cousin Ellen’s upon the same subject, but 
Charlie understood, and .promised that Dash 
should be one of the party. 

Dash was a good-natured, frolicsome dog, 
full of tricks as a monkey, always scaring up 
birds or rabbits or something, and never catch- 
ing anything, Charlie believing that he was too 
tender-hearted. 

As soon as breakfast was over the next morn- 
ing Leo, with the custard in his basket, knocked 
at Farmer Watson’s door; but alas! Charlie 
had a sore throat, and Mrs. Watson said it 
would not be safe for him to go in the woods 
and about the creek until he was well. 


106 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

But you may take Dash,” said Charlie ; 
“ he is the best company any one can have.” 

Leo was very sorry that Charlie could not go. 
He stayed some time with him, told him about 
his home, his parents and his grandfather, and 
some of the interesting stories he had told him, 
and Charlie enjoyed the visit. , Then Leo whis- 
tled to Dash, who bounded ahead, and they 
soon came to the creek. 

Oh, the delight it was to the city boy to 
breathe the fresh air of the woods, to see wild 
flowers, and hear the birds sing. He thought 
he would never grow tired of being there. 
Berries grew along the shore of the creek, and 
he said to himself that after he had eaten the 
custard he would fill the basket with the largest 
and ripest blackberries and take them to 
Grandma Elliot. 

Boughs of large oak trees reached over the 
creek, and Leo saw a place on one of them 
where he could sit and look down upon the 
water, which was quite deep and swift in that 
spot. The branches were so low that he saw it 
would be no trouble to climb to it, but first he 
would sit at the foot of it and look at a picture 
book he had brought in the basket. He 
amused himself with this and throwing sticks 
in the water for Dash to bring out before they 
floated down the stream. Then Dash was 


107 


Leo in the Country. 

allowed to rest and dry his glossy coat on the 
bank, while Leo read some of the little stories 
which told about the pictures. By the time he 
finished reading he was hungry, so thought he 
would eat his custard. Dash had been taking 
a sleep after his many baths, but was up in an 
instant, and stood watching every bite the boy 
took, wagging his tail and giving little barks? 
which seemed to say, ‘‘Oh, Leo! do give me 
some custard.” 

“Oh, no. Dash,” said Leo, with his mouth 
full; “grandma’s custards were not made for 
dogs ; I want every bite myself.” 

Dash could not understand a word, but the 
tone sounded cheery, so he gave a joyous little 
bark and wagged his tail faster than ever. 
This amused Leo and he broke off a piece of 
the rich crust and offered it, but just as Dash 
reached for it he drew it back, thus adding 
meanness to his selfishness. The custard fin- 
ished, he climbed the oak tree, and sitting upon 
the* limb, looked down upon the water, while 
Dash, not being able to follow, gazed up with 
sad look. 

“Here is something for you. Dash,” said Leo, 
as he broke off a stout stick from a dead branch 
and threw it into the water. 

Dash sprang in after it, and in his eagerness 
to see the sport, Leo leaned too far forward, 


108 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

lost his footing, and fell into the creek. He 
conld not swim, so went down, but soon came 
up, and Dash having caught the stick, swam to 
the spot ; Leo grasped the stick, and was towed 
ashore. He lay on the grassy bank for some 
time, too frightened to move, and Dash lay 
panting beside him; then he arose, took his 
basket, and went home, leaving Dash at Mr. 
Watson’s. 

“Oh, grandma,” he said that night, as she 
sat by his bedside, “I did not give Dash a 
crumb of my custard, and he wanted it so 
much, but he forgave me and saved my life. 
He ought to be a member of the Helping Hand 
Society instead of me, because he did all the 
good he could, and I forgot my pledge. I will 
never treat an animal so meanly again if I live 
to be a hundred.” 

“No, dear; God gave these dumb, helpless 
creatures into our care, and we should treat 
them kindly if for no other reason than that 
He made them. Every little mistake like this 
will call your pledge to your memory, and in 
time it will keep you from many evils.” 

Then Mrs. Elliott knelt by his bedside and 
thanked their Father in heaven who had spared 
his life, heard him say his evening prayer, and 
left him to his needed sleep. 

The next morning Charlie stopped at the 


109 


Leo in the Country. 

farmhouse on his way to the village store on an 
errand for Mrs. Watson, and asked Leo to go 
with him. 

He was glad to go, and Mrs. Elliot gave him 
a list of articles she needed, glad that she need 
not take Hulda from her work to go. 

He had a chance on the way to remember 
his pledge, and Mrs. Elliot’s advice in regard 
to dumb animals. Upon the bridge which 
crossed the creek near the village were two 
boys about his and Charlie’s age, and a little 
boy about four, who was crying bitterly. 

“ Here is a chance for me to help somebody,” 
thought Leo, and feeling braver because of 
the httle card about his neck under his jacket, 
he asked Harry why he was crying. 

“ The big boys are going to drown my kitten,” 
he sobbed. 

“Why are they going to drown it?” asked 

Leo. 

“Because,” cried the rough boy, who held it, ' 
“ its mother steals chickens and eats them, and 
this kitten will do the same when it gets old 
enough.” 

“ Oh, Archie, let him have it,” said the other 
boy, who saw that Leo was going to help to 
save it. 

“ No, I won’t give it to him ; it is easier to 
drown it now than when it grows up.” 


110 Orandma Elliot’s Earmhotise. 

Hearing this, Harry cried louder than ever, 
and looked through his tears at Leo, hoping he 
would prove to be a friend in need. 

“Your grandmother won’t let you keep it 
when we tell her that its mother steals little 
chickens,” said Archie. 

“Yes, she will, for she wants me to have 
something to play with while mamma and little 
sister are away.” 

“Give me the kitten,” said Leo, “you have 
no right to drown it.” 

“We will see if I haven’t, here it goes”; and 
he ran to the edge of the creek. 

“No, you shall not,” cried Leo, springing for- 
ward and catching Archie’s arm. A scuffle en- 
sued in which the kitten’s leg was broken, 
and its pitiful cries were added to those of 
Harry’s. 

“ There, little boy, take it and run home,” 
said Leo, as he put it in his arms. 

The child hugged it to his breast and ran, 
but Archie followed, snatched it from him, and 
threw it into the creek. 

Harry gave a cry of despair, whereupon Leo 
told the other boys to hold Archie while he ran 
into the creek, saved the kitten, and put it wet 
and trembling into Harry’s arms, who ran home 
with it. 

Leo and Charlie went with him, fearing that 


Ill 


Leo in the Country. 

Archie would again take it from him, and saw 
Harry’s grandmother. 

She was not at all anxious for a kitten, but 
it had followed Harry from the gate to the 
house that morning, and seeming motherless 
and uncared for, she allowed him to keep it. 
Moreover, she was a true Christian, and saw in 
the incident a lesson of encouragement in kind- 
ness to animals. The kitten’s leg was splin- 
tered and bandaged, then it was fed with warm 
milk, and put in a box on a soft cushion, and 
Harry watched beside it until both fell asleep. 

Leo and Charhe had in the meantime kept 
on to the village store, where they saw Archie 
and the storekeeper engaged in earnest conver- 
sation. 

“You say that your mother told you to get 
quarter of a pound of the tea she always sends 
for, for which she knows as well as I do that 
the price is twenty cents. You got five cents’ 
worth of candy before you told me that she had 
sent you for tea, which leaves only fifteen cents 
to pay for it.” 

“ She told me that I could get the candy,” said 
Archie, sullenly. 

“ Then she should have sent enough money 
to pay for a quarter of a pound of tea, or got- 
ten less tea. How am I to know if you are tell- 
ing me the truth ? ” 


11*2 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

“She won’t care if you only sent fifteen 
cents’ worth.” 

“How am I to know that? you may not tell 
her that you got the candy, and she will think 
I sent her light weight in the tea.” 

The storekeeper seemed really perplexed, 
and at last a thought came into his mind. 

“Will you two boys go home with Archie,” 
he said, turning to Leo and Charlie, “ and see 
if he tells his mother the truth in this matter?” 

“Yes, we will go, if he will go with us to show 
us the way.” 

“ He had better go, or I will help him,” re- 
plied the storekeeper; “it is but a short dis- 
tance away. If he does not tell her the true 
way of it, you will do me not only a kindness, 
but justice, to explain it to her.” 

The boys promised, and Archie went with 
them. 

“ Here’s your tea,” said he, when his mother 
came to the door to receive it. 

“It seems very light,” she said, balancing it 
on her hand, “ did you give him all the money 
I sent?” 

“Yes, I gave it to him,” and Archie looked 
at the boys and laughed. 

“Yes, he gave it to him, but not all for tea.” 
said Leo, “ he got five cents’ worth of candy 
first. The storekeeper sent us to tell you of it.” 


Leo in the Country. 


113 


“Dear me, he need not be so fussy about a 
trifle like that,” she said, half angrily. “Archie 
is nothing but a child, he will outgrow telling 
little fibs like that.” 

“ Then you did not tell him that he might 
get the candy ? ” said Leo. 

“No, but I am not going to fuss about that; 
all children love candy.” 

Leo and Charlie returned to the store and told 
the exact words as to the affair. 

“I will give you each five cents’ worth of 
candy,” said he, “if you will take this note to 
her,” and he wrote, “you will please send a 
written order for any goods needed, also state 
the amount of money you send.” 

The boys took the note and gave it into her 
hand, then returned to the store, received their 
candy and the articles they were sent to pur- 
chase, and went home. 

“Poor, ignorant mother,” said Mrs. Elliot 
when Leo told her the story, “ well, we must 
have charity, perhaps she knows no better than 
to think he will outgrow the habit of telling 
falsehoods. Parents need not expect their 
children to be truthful when their own regard 
for truth is so weak that they can say and do 
such things.” 

“What was it grandma?” asked Ellen, as 
she and Sophie ran in, for, to their dehght. 


114 Grandma Elliofs Farmhouse. 

the teacher had given the school a half holi- 
day. 

Mrs. Elliot told them what Leo had just told 
her, and then added; ‘Mear children, I will 
tell you of an incident of my school life, a true 
story of not outgrowing it.” 

“ When I was about the age of Ellen and So- 
phie, there was a boy about the age of Leo, 
named James Barton, who came to the same 
district school where I went. 

“ It was the custom in country schools at 
that time to have a wooden paddle hanging 
near the door, which, had on one side the word 
and on the other and it was under- 

stood that no pupil should go out when the 
word was in sight. 

“But one morning John Archer was out, 
and James Barton, who was wishing for some 
one to go with him to get persimmons in the 
woods adjoining, slipped out while the teacher 
was not looking, and urged John to go with 
him. 

“‘No, I will not,’ said John, ‘it would be 
playing truant ; I am going into school.’ 

“‘Then don’t you dare turn that paddle; 
leave that for me to do.’ 

“‘No, I will not turn it, for you will be Out, 
and would be telling a story to have it In' 

“John went to his place, and the teacher did 


115 


Leo in the Country. 

not appear to notice, and James returned just 
in time to be in the next lesson called for reci- 
tation. 

“ ‘ Yon and John Archer were out at the same 
time ; who went ont first ? ’ asked the teacher, 
sternly. 

‘‘‘i did,’ replied John. 

“‘Did yon know he was ont when yon left 
the room, James?” 

“‘No, sir; he forgot to turn the paddle; it 
said “7n,” ’ he replied, with snch an air of can- 
dor that the teacher believed him, and nothing 
more was said.” 

“Did he ever find ont, grandma?” asked 
Ellen. 

“No, but John Archer never forgot the inci- 
dent, and years after, when he became a rich 
man and president of a bank, the position of 
cashier was about to be vacant, and James 
Barton made application to him for it, and was 
refused because of that early falsehood. John 
believed that one who had so little regard for 
truth should not be placed in a position of 
trust.” 

“ Had he told falsehoods after he left school? ” 
asked Leo. 

“Yes; John Archer made inquiry, but not 
for some time after the position of cashier was 
filled, and found that James had not outgrown 


116 


Grand7na Elliofs Farmhouse, 


his fault; his word was not to be relied 
upon.” 

“Grandma,” said Leo thoughtfully, remem- 
bering his pledge, “I wonder if I would tell 
Archie about James Barton if it would help 
him to tell the truth ? ” 

“It might; at least you would be doing a 
helpful thing to remind him of his fault by giv- 
ing him this true story of a boy who had the 
same failing. God takes heed of every word 
and action ; he is a God of truth and abhors 
falsehood.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


SALLY'S HOLIDAY, 

I SN’T it splendid that we are to have holi- 
day this afternoon?” Sally said, as she 
and Sophie and Ellen were hurrying from 
school at twelve o’clock one day. 

“Yes, and O Sally! I thought of something 
the very instant the teacher told us of it,” said 
Ellen. 

“What is it?” asked the other two, eagerly. 
“Why, for you to come to grandma’s and 
bring your dolls the very minute you have told 
your mother and finished your dinner. We 
will play in our play-house under the big apple 
tree in the orchard, and will make dresses for 
our dolls out of the pieces that grandma gave 
us, and you can make a dress for yours out of 
what Sophie’s aunt gave you.” 

“Yes, I will,” cried Sally, gleefully : “Dorcas 
needs a new dress, and she shall have it out of 
the piece of red silk that Sophie’s aunt gave me.” 

“Sarah needs a new one, too,” said Sophie, 
“and Julia must have a new apron.” 

“And O Sally!” said Ellen, “grandma gave 
us a large piece of blue cloth to make capes; I 


118 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

will make one for Matilda, and Sophie is going 
to make one for Sarah, and you shall have 
enough to make one for Dorcas.” 

“May I? ” cried Sally, her eyes beaming with 
delight; “I will bring needle and thread and 
my thimble.” 

“Don’t you ever make anything for Amelia 
Jane ? ” asked Sophie. 

“No, for she had such pretty clothes on when 
Ellen’s mother gave her to me that mamma said 
it would be better not to take them off, but just 
keep her as she is, and make clothes for Dor- 
cas.” 

“We will trim all the jackets with lace,” said 
Sophie. 

“Yes, and I will bring all that your aunty 
gave me, and I will bring my new picture book 
and some of the ginger cakes that mother made 
for me to take to school.” 

“Oh, do! and I will bring out my set of 
dishes, and Hulda will give us some good 
things, and we will have a little supper under 
the apple tree.” 

Filled with joy over these delightful plans, 
Sally ran home, and dashed in to tell her 
mother of the holiday and the plans for the af- 
ternoon. 

“O Sally! I was just wishing that you were 
here,” replied her mother; “I am sorry to dis- 


119 


Sally's Holiday. 

appoint you, but I am so tired and have head- 
ache from loss of sleep last night, that I can 
scarcely sit up. Elsie fretted nearly all night ; 
her coming teeth make her feverish.” 

Sally’s first feeling was that of bitter disap- 
pointment. The words “to be helpful to every- 
body and do all the good I can every day,” 
came to her mind, and a thrill of joy filled her 
heart. 

“What can I do, mamma? what would help 
you best?” she asked. 

“If I could sleep for a few hours I would be 
a new person. Elsie needs to be out in the 
fresh air and sunshine, and frequent sups of 
fresh water to cool her fevered and swollen 
gums.” 

“ She shall have it, mamma, and I will take 
her out under the apple tree in the yard while 
you go to bed;” and going to the pump she 
brought the cool, sparkling water, which Elsie 
drank eagerly. 

Sally spread a rug upon the floor, placed 
Elsie and her playthings upon it, then followed 
Mrs. Watson to the bed room, helped her to 
disrobe, and saw her sink her weary head upon 
the pillow. 

“Shall I make you a cup of tea, mamma? 
I will, if you will tell me how to make it.” 

“No, dear, I do not need anything but this 


120 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

blessed chance to be quiet and sleep. Do you 
eat your dinner, and then do the best you can 
with Elsie until I can take her off your hands.” 

Sally closed the blinds to shut out the light 
from the aching eyes, went quietly out, and 
then returned with the tea bell. 

“Mamma, if you ring this I will know you 
need something,* and will run in ; I will not go 
far from the house, for when Elsie gets tired of 
the big tree, I will put her in her carriage and 
wheel her up and down the lane under the shade 
of the cherry trees.” 

“ Take any plan you choose, dear, I am sure 
you can amuse her, and will take good care of 
her.” 

Sally ate the luncheon that she had expected 
to finish at school, and the afternoon was spent 
differently from what she intended, but not un- 
happily. A feeling of peace filled her heart ; 
she had not failed to keep her pledge of doing 
the best she could to be helpful. 

Evening came, and Mrs. Watson, refreshed 
by sleep and rest, arose and prepared a good 
supper by the time Mr. Watson came in from a 
distant field, and father, mother and Sally sat 
down to it, with Elsie in the high chair beside 
her. 

When Mr. Watson heard from the mother of 
Sally’s holiday, which had passed so differently 


121 


Sally's Holiday. 

from what was planned, he looked tenderly 
upon her, as he said, “You will have many such 
experiences in life, my little Sally. We all lay 
plans for pleasure, but duty steps in, and we 
must obey her voice if we wish happiness in 
this life and in the life to come.” 

“You can sit in the rocking-chair in the 
porch, mamma, with Elsie, and I will wash the 
dishes,” said Sally, when the father had gone 
back to the field. 

“I will, dear, for my head feels weak yet, and 
the evening air will do it good.” 

Sally was an adept at this work from having 
frequently helped her mother ; it was quickly 
and neatly done, then she washed hands and 
face, brushed her hair, and was about to sit 
down in the porch when she saw two Itttle girls 
coming across the field. 

“O mamma! it is Ellen and Sophie, and they 
have their dolls,” cried Sally, clasping her 
hands in delight; “I will run and get Dorcas 
and go to meet them.” 

“Why didn’t you come over, Sally?” asked 
Ellen, as soon as they met; “we had a mind to 
come for you.” 

“I could not go. Mamma had a headache 
because she could not sleep last night, for dear 
little Elsie kept her awake, and I kept Elsie all 
afternoon, and mamma had a good sleep.” 


122 


Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 


‘‘You kept your pledge by helping your 
mother, and we kept ours by not getting mad 
because you did not come,” said Sophie. 

“ But it was grandma who said that it would 
be a good w^ay to keep them,” said Ellen. 
“We said you did not care if we were disap- 
pointed, and grandma said we must have char- 
ity, and believe that you had a good reason; 
and now we are glad we came to see you, and 
can stay an hour.” 

“I am so glad. I want you to see my pan- 
sies.” 

“Pansies?” said Sophie; “where did you 
get them ? ” 

“ I got the seed at the post-office. One day 
papa sent me there to get our mail, and people 
had gotten their letters and papers and had 
gone. I saw a little white package lying upon 
the floor and gave it to the postmaster. ‘ Some- 
body has dropped it out of a letter,’ he said ; 
‘we will open it and see what it is.’ So he 
opened it, and there lay six little gray seeds. 
‘ I wonder what they are,’ he said ; ‘ do you 
know, Sally?’ ‘No sir,’ I said; ‘I never saw 
any like them before.’ ‘I guess they are not 
of much account,’ he said; ‘you found them, 
Sally, and may take them home with you.’ 
‘ But somebody might come and ask for them,’ 
I said, ‘ and then you could not give them.’ 


123 


Sally's Holiday. 

‘Yes, that is true. Well, suppose you leave 
them with me for a week, and if no one calls 
for them they are yours.’ ” 

“ Did you leave them ? ” asked Ellen. 

“ Yes ; and in a week I went to the post- 
office, and he said no one had asked for them, 
and it would soon be too late to plant them, 
and he gave them to me.” 

By this time they had reached the cottage, 
and Ellen and Sophie kissed Elsie and then ran 
to the garden back of the cottage. 

“ Oh, the lovely, lovely things ! ” cried Sophie, 
clasping her hands in delight, while Ellen knelt 
down to look at them closer ; “ I never, never 
saw such large ones.” 

“ They are all different, and all so beautiful 
that I do not know which is the most lovely,” 
cried Ellen; “just look at the snow-white one, 
and at this purple one that looks as if made of 
velvet.” 

“I took some to Cousin Johnny yesterday 
evening,” said Sally “ and oh, how pleased he 
was ! I put them in a glass dish in the window 
by the sofa, where he lay, and he just looked 
and looked at them and touched them with his 
fingers.” 

“Who is your Cousin Johnny?” asked 
Ellen, “ and where does he live ? ” 

“ His mother is my mother’s sister, and his 


124 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

father is dead, and they live in a house near the 
village.” 

‘‘ Do we pass it to go to the store or to 
school?” 

“No ; because it is the other end of the vil- 
lage, past the school-house.” 

“Who lives there beside Johnny and his 
mother ? ” 

“ No one but Cousin Horace.” 

“ Is he Johnny’s brother? ” 

“ No ; Johnny has no brother or sister. Cou- 
sin Horace is his cousin, too. His mother was 
mamma’s sister, as is Cousin Johnny’s mother. 
She is dead, and his father is dead, and Aunt 
Graham, that is Johnny’s mother, took him 
when they died.” 

“If he is a cousin as much as Johnny, why 
don’t you give him some of the pansies?” 
asked Sophie. 

“ Because he is older than Johnny, and is 
well and strong, while Johnny is sick most of 
the time, and has to stay home from school. 
Mamma says I am keeping my pledge in doing 
all I can to help and cheer Johnny.” 

“ I never saw your Cousin Horace or Johnny 
at school,” remarked Ellen. 

“ Oh, they do not go to our little summer 
school, but to a bigger one in the village. It is 
not like ours, but is called a public school, and 


125 


Sally's Holiday. 

has a man teacher. The school-house is shut 
up now ; it is vacation.” 

“Which do you like best, Johnny or Hor- 
ace ? ” asked Ellen. 

“ I like them both, only Cousin Horace is 
sullen sometimes.” 

“ What is sullen ? ” asked Sophie. 

“ He won’t talk, and mamma says he acts as 
if he is discontented.” 

“ Maybe he thinks your aunt does not want 
him there,” said Ellen. 

“Oh, but she does. She is just as good to 
him as she is to Cousin Johnny, only that 
Johnny is the youngest and is sick so much.” 

“Sally!” called her mother from the kitchen 
door, “ here is a lady to see you ; tell Ellen 
and Sophie to come, too ; she knows them.” 

“ Who can she be ? ” said the little girls, 
much surprised; but they went through the 
house to the front porch, and there sat Miss 
Wood. 

“How have you enjoyed your holiday, my 
dears ? ” she asked, kindly. 

“Oh, we have had a splendid time,” said 
Ellen. 

“ It was a very unexpected one to me,” con- 
tinued the teacher, turning to Mrs. Watson ; 
“ a dear friend was taken suddenly ill and sent 
for me, and I was compelled to give the little 


126 Grandma Kllio'Cs Farmhouse. 

ones holiday. My friend sent a carriage for 
me, and brought me back to the village again, 
thus leaving me time to make a few calls after 
my return.” 

“ I am glad that you favored us with one,” 
said Mrs. Watson, hospitably. 

“Yes, and before coming I called to see your 
sister, Mrs. Graham, and Johnny.” 

“How is Johnny to-day. Miss Wood?” 
asked Mrs. Watson earnestly. 

“ He seems quite cheerful and so pleased 
with the pansies Sally took him last evening ; 
and no wonder, they are the finest I ever saw. 
My child,” she said, turning to Sally, “how 
did you learn to bring pansies to such perfec- 
tion?” 

“Papa fixed the ground for me; it was well- 
rotted sod, and I attended to them every day 
after the seeds came up.” 

“Johnny told me about your finding the 
seed. Do you know those pansies are very 
rare ? They are the Fire King^ the Fainhow^ 
the Black Knight^ Bosy Morn, Crown Prince, 
and Snow Queen, and all the finest specimens I 
have ever seen.” 

“ Sally paid them great attention,” smiled 
Mrs. Watson; “she has great love for flowers.” 

“ And great taste in arranging them,” said 
Miss Wood; “she is a real artist in that line, 


Sally's Holiday. 


127 


as proved by those arranged for Johnny. And 
that brings me to my errand here. My father 
is, as yon know, a florist, and is in need of a 
helper to arrange bonquets, and I have not a 
particle of taste in that line. If Sally conld 
stop an hour each evening after school to help 
with the bonquets that are to be shipped to the 
city, he will pay her well for her work.” 

Sally was delighted with the opportunity to 
work among flowers, and her mother was will- 
ing that she should accept the offer, and thus 
her unselfish wish to comfort Johnny in his 
affliction brought a reward in this life, and was 
a treasure laid up in heaven. 


CHAPTER X. 


WET ELMER WARE WAS CHOSEN. 
EFORE Leo left the city to visit the farm- 



J3 house, he called to bid Miss Ashton good- 
bye, and she had a request to make of him. 

“ I am glad you came, Leo,” she said, kindly, 
“for I intended to ask you the next time I saw 
you to go sometimes to visit Elmer Ware. Now 
that you are going away, I hope you will go to 
see him, and if you will write to him while you 
are away I am sure you will give a great plea- 
sure. He has many cares for one so young, 
and very few pleasures. Your going to see him 
before you go would be a bright spot in his 
Hfe, and to look forward to a letter from you, 
and the receiving, would be a joy not only to 
him, but to his grandmother.” 

“I will go this evening. Miss Ashton, and 
will take Grandmother Elliot’s letter and the 
Helping Hand little card she sent me.” 

“All will be of interest to him; have you the 
card with you? ” 

Leo unbuttoned his jacket, and taking the 
cord from his neck from which the card was 
suspended, he put it into her hand. 


Why Elmer Ware was Chosen. 129 

“ A truly excellent guide for any one to fol- 
low,” she said, upon reading the sentence upon 
it — and you will be obeying it by becoming a 
friend of Elmer Ware.” 

That evening, with his mother’s consent, he 
went to see Elmer, and staid an hour, and it 
was hard to decide which boy took the most 
pleasure in the visit. 

Elmer was very much pleased with the Help- 
ing Hand card, and read the sentence more than 
once. 

“I wish I had one,” he said, wistfully, “it 
would always keep one in mind of doing right.” 

“Yes, it keeps me,” replied Leo, “and I will 
ask grandmother to send you one, and it will 
come in the first letter I write.” 

“ Then will I be a member of the society ? ” 

“Yes, you and me, and Cousin Ellen and 
Sophie and Sally.” 

All this was a charming prospect to Elmer, 
something to look forward to as he went about 
the streets with his papers. 

Leo had been as good as his word ; the very 
evening he reached the farmhouse he told Mrs. 
Elliot all about it, and she gladly got the card 
and wrote the pledge upon it, and helped him 
to write the letter to Elmer in which it was 
enclosed. 

Elmer received it, and, following the example 


130 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

of Leo, he wore it hung by a cord around his 
neck and safely protected under his jacket, and 
like the other members he felt very important 
in belonging to a society, and resolved to do 
his best to keep the pledge. 

The next evening he had a paper left over, 
and took it home to read, as he was anxious to 
examine the advertisements, hoping to see one 
which might be of use to him. 

He turned to the “ want column, and was at- 
tracted by the very first sentence upon which 
his glance rested. 

‘•Wanted! A boy in a lawyer’s office ; apply 
at 9 o’clock on Monday morning.” 

These were the words, together with address 
and the salary to be given. It seemed to be 
there especially for him, and he was resolved 
to be on hand promptly on time and secure the 
position if he could ; his grandmother agreeing 
with him that it was worth the trial. It was 
vacation, and for two months at least he could 
be earning something, and they would leave the 
future in the hand of a kind Providence who 
had watched over them and kept them. 

It happened that another boy named Morris 
Allen had seen the notice, and resolved to se- 
cure it if he could, and on Monday morning the 
two boys went down town on the same car, not 
knowing each other’s intention. 


131 


Why Elmer Ware was Chosen. 

Elmer had seen Norris frequently, but had 
no acquaintance with him for the reason they 
went to different schools. 

The car soon filled, and when a gray -haired 
gentleman (Leo’s grandfather) came in, there 
was no place for him. 

“Please take this seat, sir,” said Elmer, ris- 
ing quickly. 

Mr. Forester thanked him, and sitting down 
in the corner vacated, opened his morning pa- 
per, and Elmer had just reached for a strap to 
steady himself when a man next to Norris left 
the car, and Elmer took the place. 

“It was silly in you to jump up and give this 
old man your place ; if you had waited he 
would have found one,” said Norris in a low 
tone, but heard by Mr. Forester. 

“ I think it is a boy’s place to give the seat to 
a lady or to any older person,” returned Elmer ; 
“ suppose it had been your father ? ” 

“I would let him stand for not buying a 
bicycle for me,” said Norris, a frown darkening 
his face ; “ now I am bound to earn one for 
myself, and no thanks to him. There is a law- 
yer who wants an office boy, and I am his 
man” 

“Why, that is where I am going,” said 
Elmer ; “I wonder if he would take us 
both?” 


132 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

“ He shall see me first. I was in the car first, 
and have the best right. Do you want to earn 
money for a bicycle ? ” 

“ No ; I want to earn something to help my 
grandmother and my little sister. Since father 
died she has had a hard time to clothe us and 
keep me in school. I have sold papers of 
evenings, and done what little I could, but feel 
that I must do more. But we are both sorry 
that I must stay from school if I get the place 
and can keep it after vacation is over.” 

“ But you won’t get it if I can see the man 
first. I should think you would be glad to 
leave school ; I hate it, and always did.” 

“ Father and mother always said that there 
is nothing like a good education to help one in 
life, and grandmother says the same,” replied 
Elmer mildly ; “ I hope I can study some of 
evenings if I get the place.” 

“ But you won’t get it if I can help it. I 
have two reasons for wanting it, and you have 
but one. I am bound to have a bicycle and I 
am bound to leave school. Mother tried to 
coax father to get me one, but he wouldn’t; 
said he could not afford it, but I know that is 
only an excuse, so I will let him see that I can 
earn money of my own, and the folks at home 
shall not see one cent of it.” 

A passenger coming in at that moment 


Why Elmer Ware was Chosen. 133 

brushed against Mr. Forester’s umbrella, and 
it fell to the floor. As Norris was next to him, 
Elmer waited for him to pick it up, but seeing 
that he was not intending to do so, he arose 
and quickly placed it in its former position, the 
little card doing its work. 

“Thank you, my boy,” said Mr. Forester; 
and lowering his paper, he glanced at both 
boys, noticing the perfect neatness of Elmer 
and the want of it in Norris. 

“ Do either of you happen to know the 
time ? ” he asked pleasantly. 

“ Yes, sir ; it is ten minutes of nine ; we have 
just passed the clock on St. Luke’s Church,” 
replied Elmer. 

“ Carries a watch, and has to ask the time,” 
said Norris, in a low tone ; “ I wouldn’t have 
told him nor picked up his umbrella ; he is old 
enough to wait upon himself,” and he laughed 
at the thought that he had said a witty thing. 

Elmer touched the bell when they neared the 
corner where they were to leave the car, and 
Mr. Forester left it at the same time ; but the 
boys hurried away, and did not know that he 
followed them to the office, which he entered 
by another door. 

“ Did you call in an answer to our advertise- 
ment ? ” asked the clerk when they presented 
themselves. 


134 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

“ Yes, and I am to be the first to see the 
lawyer,” said Norris promptly. 

“ Well, follow me,” and the clerk led the way 
to the private office, and the surprise of Norris 
was great, as was that of Elmer a moment 
later, to find that their fellow-passenger (Mr. 
Forester) and the lawyer were one and the 
same. 

“ Show the other boy in,” said Mr. Forester 
to the clerk, and Elmer entered and stood be- 
side Norris, both looking anxiously at Mr. 
Forester, who was writing upon a slip of paper. 

“ You both wish the position of office boy at 
the salary mentioned in the advertisement?” 
he said when he finished. 

‘‘ Yes, sir,” they answered. 

‘‘ And if either one is engaged, he can remain 
to-day.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ You will please tell me your names.” 

They gave them, and the lawyer wrote them 
down upon a slip of paper. “ Very good ! ” he 
said ; “ Elmer, you can stay. Norris, I will 
bid you good morning.” 

“Why don’t you want me?” asked Norris, 
insolently ; “ you have not asked us one ques- 
tion except our names.” 

“ There was no need to ask questions ; here 
are my objections to you,” and he passed him 


Why Elmer Ware was Chosen. 135 

a slip of paper, upon which was written : 
“Want of honor of parents and duty to them,” 
“selfishness,” “disrespect to your elders,” 
“ ignorance,” “ rudeness,” “ impertinence,” 
“ want of neatness.” 

Norris left the room crimson with anger, and 
Elmer began his light duties that day. 

This was great news to Leo when his mother 
wrote and told him of it. Elmer Ware in his 
grandfather’s office ! He could scarcely under- 
stand it. The same day came a letter from 
Elmer telling the good news ; “ and Leo,” he 
added, “ his name is the same as yours, and I 
am so glad.” 

It was a pleasure to Leo’s parents and his 
grandfather to know that the boy Mr. Forester 
had chosen was the one for whom Miss Ashton 
had such high regard, and the one whom Leo 
had visited and was corresponding with, and 
that Elmer was a member of the Helping Hand 
Society. 

On Elmer’s part it was a great surprise and 
joy to hear from Leo that his employer was 
Leo’s grandfather ; it was another tie to bind 
him to his new friend. 

Charlie and his dog Dash were Leo’s almost 
constant companions, and very often Horace 
Beauchamp, Sally’s other cousin, came to see 
them. Though living beyond the other end of 


136 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

the village, he did not mind the walk to meet 
such pleasant companions as were Leo and 
Charlie. Quite frequently Mrs. Graham told 
Horace to invite the five — Charlie, Leo, Sally, 
Ellen and Sophie — to come and take supper 
with him and Johnny, and play upon the lawn, 
and the invitation was never declined. Owing 
to his weakness, Johnny could not join in any 
of the active plays, but he could sit under the 
shade of the great willow tree and enjoy seeing 
them with the patience of one used to sickness. 

At length the term in the little people’s 
school, in which Sally and Ellen and Sophie 
were pupils, came to an end, and on the very 
last day something happened which was a sur- 
prise to the teacher and all the scholars and a 
great joy to Ellen and Mrs. Elliot. 

It was the custom of the authorities to cut 
down a few trees in the woods which nearly 
surrounded the school-house, for the winter 
fuel, not only for that school, but for the brick 
school-house in the village, for older pupils. 

This was always of great interest to the chil- 
dren, and so expert did they become by the 
time the third tree was felled, that they could 
tell by the sound made by the axes, the exact 
time when they would be notified to leave the 
building. 

“Why must we go out?” asked Ellen when 


Why Elmer Ware was Chosen, 137 

she first heard the sound of the axes that morn- 
ing, and Sally had whispered to her that leav- 
ing the house would follow. 

“ Because the tree might fall on the school- 
house and kill us,” replied that wise little 
woman ; “ besides they know that we would not 
study, but would keep looking out to see the 
tree fall, and we might as well be out.” 

“ Where will we go ? ” asked Sophie, full of 
interest. 

“They tell us where to stand, and it is al- 
ways a good distance off, the branches reach so 
far when a tree is on the ground.” 

“ I wonder which way that one they are cut- 
ting now will fall ? ” 

“ I guess it will fall right across the school- 
yard ; oh, we will have fun after it is down rid- 
ing on the branches, and pretending they are 
horses. And we will put a board across the 
trunk and see-saw.” 

“ But this is the last day of school,” said So- 
phie. 

“ Oh, so it is; I forgot that;” and little Sally 
was really disappointed. 

The blows given by two sturdy wood- chop- 
pers, with sharp axes, soon brought the tree to 
the dangerous limit, and while one rested, the 
other came to the school-house door. 

“It is time for the children to take to the 


138 Grandma Elliotts Farmhouse. 

woods now, Miss,” he said to the teacher, and 
there was a great hurrying for sun-bonnets and 
caps, and the little ones ran shouting with de- 
light to the place pointed out by the wood- 
man. 

It was quite an exciting time, and Ellen and 
Sophie resolved to put their hands over their 
ears when they saw the great tree falling, for 
Sally had told them it would make such a noise 
that it would shake the earth. 

But when they heard the cracking sound of 
splintering wood, and saw the great giant of the 
forest tremble before it commenced to measure 
its length upon the ground, they forgot the 
noise it would make in the excitement of seeing 
it fall. 

They all ran to it the moment it was down, 
and Sally’s bright eyes saw a bird’s nest, and 
in it something was glistening in the beams of 
the morning sun. 

No eggs nor birds were in it, and Sally picked 
it from the notch among the branches, and ran 
with it to Ellen, for it was her fine gold chain 
that was woven in the nest so beautifully and 
securely that Miss Wood advised her not to 
disturb it until she had shown it to her grand- 
mother. 

“ I will put it in my desk and keep it for you 
until school is out this evening,” said the 


Wliy Elmer Ware was Chosen. 139 

teaclier, kindly, and Ellen gladly passed it into 
her care. 

They all returned to their lessons, and at 
noon had the great delight of riding upon the 
branches, for the wood- choppers were sawing 
into logs the first tree cut, which was some 
distance down in the woods. 

In the evening Ellen bade good-bye to their 
dear teacher, as did all the scholars, and then 
with the bird’s nest in her basket, went home, 
and when she reached there found another 
great pleasure awaiting her. Her Aunt Lizzie 
had come home from the seminary, it being va- 
cation and Mrs. Elliot had kept it for a surprise. 

They were all charmed with the artistic taste 
exercised by the bird in weaving the gold chain 
in its nest. 

“It is really an ornament, Ellen,” said her 
Aunt Lizzie, “ and the chain will be as safe 
there as anywhere, I would not disturb it.” 

Mrs. Elliot agreed with her in this, and El- 
len whose past experience kept her from crav- 
ing to wear it again, was more than willing to 
leave it to the security of the bird’s nest. 

“I will tell you how we can make a pretty 
parlor ornament of it,” said Aunt Lizzie, upon 
reflection. “I have a beautiful stuffed red bird 
that one of the girls at school gave me; her 
brother is an expert taxidermist, and the bird is 


140 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

as natural as if alive and singing upon a 
bough. We will ask Leo and Charlie to get us a 
branch of the oak tree that was cut down, and 
put the nest in a notch, and set the bird near it.” 

“Little fellows like them would not know 
what to bring,” said Hulda, who had joined the 
group. “ I wdll go this afternoon to the school- 
house and get one of the right kind ; I would 
as lief go as not.” 

“ Oh, let us go with you, Hulda,” cried Ellen, 
grasping her arm as she was returning to the 
kitchen. 

“Yes, you can go, and Sally, too, if you can 
get word to her.” 

“We will run over and tell her, won’t we, So- 
phie ? ” and they hurried to put on their sun- 
bonnets. 

“ I will have supper at five o’clock, and go as 
soon as it is over, it will be cooler then,” quoth 
Hulda. 

“ That will be better,” said Mrs. Elliot, “then 
you need not hurry home, but can enjoy the 
walk. In the meantime I have thought of a 
large, clear, glass shade I have in the attic, 
which will be suited exactly to put over the 
branch with its nest and bird, and Ellen may 
have it. It was used for wax fiowers when they 
were in date, and has a nice walnut stand, with 
feet.” 


Why Elmer Ware was Chosen. 141 

‘‘ Oh, grandma, let me give it all to mamma 
for a birthday present,” said Ellen, eagerly. 

“ Certainly ; I know that she will appreciate 
it, and will agree to having it belong to both of 
you.” 

Then Ellen and Sophie hurried across the 
field to tell Sally, who was delighted with the 
invitation, and before they had finished the 
good supper that Hulda had prepared in honor 
of the return of the daughter of the house to 
the old homestead, Sally was seen, sun-bonnet 
in hand, running across to join them in the 
walk. She received a slice, a generous one, of 
the fine pound cake that had graced the supper 
table, and though she had just finished supper, 
it did not come amiss. 

Thus the happy summer passed, September 
was near at hand, and the children must return 
to the city and school. 

Farmer Watson took Leo, Ellen, and Sophie 
back in the long farm wagon, and Sally, Char- 
lie, and Horace went back with them, enjoying 
to the full the charming journey, with frequent 
stoppages in the woods and by flowing streams. 

Horace went over to Grandma Elliot’s farm- 
house the evening before and staid overnight 
with Leo, in order to be there for an early start 
in the morning. 

Johnny saw him leave and bade him good- 


142 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse, 

bye, without a word of complaint that he was 
deprived of the pleasure ; the faithful training 
of his loving Christian mother reconciled him 
to his lot. 

Leo went home without having done all the 
good he had hoped in regard to Archie, for 
when he told him the story of James Barton, 
Archie saw his intention, and laughed in deri- 
sion at the idea of a boy of Leo’s age posing as 
instructor. 

Leo was abashed, but having set out to do 
good, he showed his Helping Hand card, where- 
upon Archie called him a “milk-sop,” and 
“ sissy -boy,” and said he was tied to his grand- 
mother’s apron strings. 

“Never mind,” said Mrs. Elliot when Leo, 
much chagrined, told her of it, “Archie may 
have put on that bravado air to conceal his real 
feeling. The story of James Barton may have 
its influence upon him : we can only pray that 
it may.” 


CHAPTEE XI. 

QRANDFA THEM FORESTERS LESSOR. 

I T spoke well for Leo, Ellen and Sophie that 
Grandma Elliot and Hulda were sorry to 
see them go, and missed them very much after 
they were gone. They were gladly welcomed 
at home, and Bridget shed tears of joy to see 
Ellen. 

They were all promptly on time the first day 
of school, and Sophie had the great pleasure of 
stopping each morning for Ellen on the way 
there. 

Elmer Ware was still in the office of Leo’s 
grandfather, and went to an evening school and 
studied every leisure time, having help from 
Mr. Forester, and was still in Miss Ashton’s 
class in Sunday-school. 

The first Sunday after Leo’s return from the 
country he came home from Sunday school 
seeming much out of spirits, his eyes full of 
tears. 

“What is the matter, Leo? ” asked Mrs. For- 
ester, in surprise. 

“ I will not go to that Sunday-school another 
day,” he said, as he put his library book upon 


144 (Jrandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

the table and glanced through the door to the 
dining-room to see if dinner was ready. 

“ What has offended you, dear ? You seemed 
always satisfied until now.” 

“ No, I am not satisfied. I don’t like my 
teacher. Miss Ashton, nor the superintendent, 
nor any of the boys in the class except Elmer 
Ware, and he did not treat me any better than 
did the rest of them to-day.” 

“Not treat you any better. Why, what did 
they do ? ” 

“Not one of them made any account of me.” 

“ What account did you wish them to make 
of yqu, dear ? ” 

“ I thought they would ask where I went on 
the six weeks’ vacation, but not one of them 
did. I wanted to tell them of Grandma Elliot’s 
farm, and of the horses, and the woods, and 
about Farmer Watson, and Charlie and Dash, 
and of the kitten we saved from drowning, and 
show them my Helping Hand card and tell 
them all about it, and lots of other things. I 
thought they would ask me before the lessons 
commenced, but they were talking to Elmer 
Ware, and so the minute school was out I came 
right home.” 

“ But, Leo, Sunday-school is not the place to 
talk of these things ; you have all week at 
school to talk of your pleasures. Besides, 1 


Grandfather Forester's Lesson. 145 

doubt very much if one of the class except 
Elmer knew that you were out of the city.” 

This was a new view of the case and the cor- 
rect one, but it gave Leo a thought very differ- 
ent from what his mother intended. 

“That is just it, mother. None of the boys 
in the class go to my school, so I am going to 
leave that Sunday-school and go where some 
of the boys in my grade go.” 

Mrs. Forester said no more, believing it to 
be but a momentary irritation, which would 
disappear when he had dinner, or would cer- 
tainly be forgotten before the next Sunday ; 
but when toward the last of the week he was of 
the same opinion, she consulted his father and 
grandfather about it. 

“ Let him make the change and try it,” said 
Mr. Forester ; “ he will never be satisfied until 
he does.” 

“ Yes, I advise that, too,” said Grandfather 
Forester. “ I have seen older persons than 
Leo imagine that they were not treated with 
sufficient consideration in their church home 
and leave it for another, of even different de- 
nomination, and were glad to return.” 

Leo’s parents and grandfather were too 
broad-minded to have prejudice against any 
religious denomination, but, as was natural and 
right, had preference to the one to which they 


146 Grandyna Elliot's Farmhouse. 

belonged ; but when Sunday came and Leo ex- 
pressed his intention of going to another Sun- 
day-school, no objection was made, and he 
went. The superintendent met him at the 
door, asked him to what Sunday-school he be- 
longed, showed a little surprise that he wished 
to change, and was about to conduct him to a 
place. 

‘‘ I wish to be in a class with boys I know,” 
said Leo, and upon being told who they were, 
the superintendent took him there, put a les- 
son leaf in his hand, different from those Leo 
had studied from, and left him. 

“ What brought you to this school ? ” asked 
one of the boys, whom Leo had always looked 
upon as a good friend. 

“ I came because I wanted to,” replied Leo 
curtly. 

“But the class is large enough now, and 
Miss Fuller will tell you so when she comes,” 
added another. 

Leo was silent from wounded feelings and 
disappointment, and at that moment Miss 
Fuller came in. “ I am glad to see you,” she 
said cordially, when introduced to the new 
scholar ; “ although I have now as many in the 
class as I can attend to well, but will do the 
best I can. I am very unwilling to decline to 
take a boy who wishes a place in my class.” 


Grandfather l^orester's Lesson. 147 

So even the teacher was not overjoyed to see 
him, and at that moment the superintendent 
came by. 

“ I allowed him to come to your class, Miss 
Fuller, because he desired it,” he explained; 
“ but if you do not wish to add another to your 
already large class, I will place him elsewhere.” 

“ If he takes me ‘ elsewhere,’ as he calls it, I 
will not come here another day,” thought Leo, 
coloring with chagrin. “ Even the superin- 
tendent does not make much account of me.” 

“ I will make the trial and do the best I 
can,” replied Miss Fuller ; and Leo wished 
earnestly that he was back in his old place in- 
stead of where he was — “ only allowed to stay 
because he wished it.” 

When the hour was over he was plied with 
questions as to his reason for leaving his own 
school, and when one of the boys hinted that 
perhaps he was invited to leave, his indigna- 
tion knew no bounds. His parents and grand- 
father asked no questions upon his return, but 
judged by his silence that his change had not 
been the success he thought it would be, and 
when the next Sunday came and he went to his 
own school, they were sure of it. There he 
met with a deeper fall to his pride, for Miss 
Ashton, having heard from the class that Leo 
had gone to another Sunday-school, took an- 


148 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

other boy to fill his place. As Leo was a for- 
mer member, she thought it wiser to allow him 
to take his old place, and the new boy was 
placed in another class, and was not at all 
pleased to have to leave to make room for him, 
and the other boys did not welcome him with 
the warmth he expected. 

“ Here comes our turncoat ! ” said one of 
them, when, school being out, they were leav- 
ing the building. “ Why did you leave here, 
and why did you leave the other school? ” 

Leo was too near crying to trust his voice to 
speak. He hurried home, and again no ques- 
tions were asked, all thinking it better to wait 
until he chose to tell what troubled him. The 
next evening he was in his grandfather’s room 
listening to stories of the times when his grand- 
father was a boy or of interesting things he 
had read. When bed-time came he rose to go, 
and Mr. Forester said: “Leo, did you ever 
hear of a person named iEsop ? ” 

“ No, grandfather ; who is he ? ” 

“ He was a heathen slave, a native of Ath- 
ens, in Greece, and lived about six hundred 
years before Christ. He wrote many fables, 
which pointed out the follies of mankind, and 
no writer of our times has written fables so 
useful and entertaining, ^sop's Fahles was 
my favorite book when I was a boy.” 


Grandfather Forester's Lesson. 149 

“Tell me one of the fables, grandfather,” 
said Leo, coming back to his chair ; “ I do so 
love to hear yon tell stories.” 

“ I will do better than that ; I will read one 
of them to you,” and taking from his book-case 
a copy of the old-time book which Leo had 
never seen, he again took his place by the 
table and lamp. 

“ Why, grandfather, I did not know you had 
any story-books in your book-case,” said Leo 
in surprise ; “ I thought they were all law 
books and other things that grown people like 
to read.” 

“My books are what are called standard 
works, but I think ^sop can be classed among 
them. As all the fables are new to you, I think I 
will read “ The Jackdaw and the Peacocks.” 

Leo was all attention while his grandfather 
read: “A certain jackdaw was so proud and 
ambitious that, not contented to live within his 
own sphere, he picked up the feathers which 
fell from peacocks, stuck them among his own, 
and introduced himself among them. They 
soon found him out, and falling upon him with 
their sharp bills, punished him for his pre- 
sumption. Pull of grief at this treatment, he 
returned to his old companions, but they, know- 
ing that he had deserted them for others, re- 
fused him admittance into their company.” 


150 Grandma Elliots Farmhouse. 

Grandfather,” said Leo, reflectively, “ I 
was like that jackdaw when I left my own Sun- 
day school and went to another.” 

His grandfather smiled, but made no re- 
sponse. He saw that Leo had made the appli- 
cation that was intended. 


CHAPTEK XII. 

WHY HORACE CHANGED HIS OPINION. 
HE beautiful autumn weather passed and 



JL winter had come. Leo, Ellen, and Sophie 
could go to school, but little Sally, in the coun- 
try, owing to the muddy roads, rain, snow, and 
sleet, had to stay at home. 

But she studied her lessons and recited them 
to her mother, played with the dolls and her 
dishes, helped her mother care for little Elsiej 
and was passing a happy and useful winter. 

With the help of her mother she wrote to 
Ellen and Sophie, and received letters in re- 
turn, and all were looking forward to the next 
summer when they would meet again. 

Horace being twelve years old went to the 
school in the village, and Johnny went on 
pleasant days, but was not allowed to overtax 
himself by study. 

“Horace,” called his aunt, one morning, 
“ wake up dear, it is time to make the fire,” and, 
wakened from sleep, the boy felt more than 
usually cross and out of spirits. 

“Why doesn’t she call sometimes upon 


152 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

Johnny to make the fire and pump fresh water 
for the tea-kettle,” he grumbled to himself as 
he stepped to the fioor, and commenced dress- 
ing as he glanced with frowning brow at his 
sleeping cousin. “He has all the little jobs, 
such as feeding the chickens and gathering 
chips, but when it comes to carrying wood and 
shoveling paths in the snow, it is ‘ Horace ’ that 
is called upon to do it. He looks as well as I 
do, and I don’t beheve there is anything the 
matter with him.” 

Filled with these thoughts he went to the 
kitchen which was spotlessly clean, but never 
an attractive place to him on winter mornings, 
and with a cloud upon his spirits, seemed less 
so than ever. 

He bathed face and hands, brushed his hair, 
then set' to work to make a fire in the brightly- 
polished stove, his thoughts still on what he 
considered the hardships of his life. 

“ I am glad that we had plenty of good dry 
wood stacked in the shed before this snow came 
on,” said Mrs. Graham, cheerfully, as she came 
from her room to the kitchen and noticed the 
bright fire. 

Horace made no answer, and she continued, 
“ I expect Miss Fanshaw here to-day to remain to 
help me sew on school suits for you and Johnny, 
and we must have the sitting-room nice and 


Why Horace Changed His Opinion. 153 

warm before she comes. You can kindle a fire 
there, dear, while I am getting breakfast.” 

Horace made no answer, but went about the 
work with a clouded brow. He had no liking 
for Miss Fanshaw, who considered that her 
sixty years gave her the right to speak her 
mind to younger people, and to give them ad- 
vice when she saw that it was needed. He 
called to mind that every time she sewed there 
she took occasion to tell him that he could 
never do too much to repay his aunt for her 
goodness to him, and he considered that she, 
like his aunt, and all the people he knew, were 
partial to J ohnny, and felt that he had not one 
real friend upon earth. 

The good breakfast of coffee, steak, and 
buckwheat cakes, brightened his spirits some- 
what, and when it was finished he prepared for 
school. 

“Isn’t Johnny going?” he asked in surprise, 
when he noticed that his cousin was not up to 
breakfast. 

“No, the snow makes the walking difficult; it 
will be better for him to stay at home.” 

“ When did she ever think the snow too deep, 
or the roads too muddy for me?” he thought 
bitterly, as he took up his books and basket of 
good luncheon, then went out without a word 
of good-bye. 


154 Grandma Elliofs Farmhouse. 

“ I wonder what time our ‘ sissy -boy ’ got up 
to breakfast?” he said to himself as he came in 
sight of the farm-house on his return from 
school in the evening. “ Of course I will milk 
the cow, and feed her and the pigs and chick- 
ens, and split kindling for the morning fire, 
while he sits by the fire and reads pretty 
stories.” 

In this mood he entered the kitchen, put his 
books aside, and was about to go to the stable, 
when he noticed the absence of his cousin. 

“Where is Johnny?” he asked. 

“He has not been well all day,” replied Mrs. 
Graham, “ and I have made a bed for him on 
the sofa in the sitting-room.” 

A sniff of derision was the response of Hor- 
ace, which, if noticed by his aunt, elicited no 
sign. 

By the time he had finished his evening work 
supper was ready, and he took his place at the 
table with his aunt and Miss Fanshaw, and al- 
though the stewed chicken, hot biscuits, and 
honey made his favorite meal, discontent was 
not driven from his mind, nor the evidence of it 
from his manner. 

“You can study your lessons in the sitting- 
room this evening, dear,” said Mrs. Graham 
when all was in order for the night. “We will 
let the kitchen fire go out ; the fire in the sit- 


Why Horace Changed His Opinion, 155 

ting-room has heated the drum in my room, 
and I will put Johnny on the cot in there ; I 
must have him near me now that he is sick.” 

Again the look of derision came into the 
countenance of Horace at this petting of his 
cousin, but he said nothing. 

At early bedtime Mrs. Graham led Johnny 
up to the cot in her room, and Miss Fanshaw, 
left alone with Horace, stitched quietly by the 
glowing stove and bright light. 

Horace studied diligently for an hour longer, 
only halting once to put more wood in the 
stove, then closed his book and was about to 
go to his room and to bed. 

“Horace,” said Miss Fanshaw, “from whom 
did you inherit your sullen, envious, and jeal- 
ous disposition ? I knew your mother and your 
Aunt Graham, and your Aunt Watson since 
they were infants, and sweeter, nobler, more 
unselfish natures were never given to mortals. 
Your father was one of the best of men, broad- 
minded and honorable, and had not a particle 
of envy or jealousy.” 

“Who told you that I was envious and jeal- 
ous ? ” asked the boy, angrily. 

“ Your countenance says it as plainly as your 
lips could utter it. I have noticed it for two 
years when I have been here to sew, and this 
time plainer than ever. Horace, I am about to 


156 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

tell you something that perhaps your aunt 
would not like me to tell you, but I believe it 
to be a duty to her and to you. Will you 
promise to let it be a secret between us? ” 

“Yes, I promise,” answered the boy, the 
good words spoken of his parents having won 
his interest. 

“As you may know, Horace, when your 
sweet, young mother died, you were but three 
years old. Your father had died a year before, 
and there was not a person in the wide world 
to care for you except Mrs. Graham, for your 
Aunt Watson had no home to offer you, for be- 
ing a young girl and an orphan, she made her 
home with your aunt until she married Mr. Wat- 
son. Well, your Aunt Graham took you, not 
only willingly, but gladly, thus keeping you 
from being taken to an orphan asylum. She 
brought you to this old homestead, where she 
and your mother, and Aunt Watson were born, 
and where your mother lived until she married 
your father and went to live in his home. 
Your Aunt Graham’s husband bought this 
place, and she has always lived here. She has 
no means except it, and you have not a dollar. 
She has had a hard struggle to keep the home 
since your Uncle Graham died, but has given 
you every comfort and advantage in her power 
to give. 


Why Horace Changed Ills Opinion. 157 

“ When you were five years old, and Johnny 
three, you took scarlet fever, and were at death’s 
door, but her prayers and faithful nursing 
brought you through it. Night and day she 
watched beside you, and during your long 
weakness which followed, was always patient 
and loving. You were scarcely well when 
Johnny took the disease, and she had again a 
long spell of nursing, for helpers are hard to 
obtain in the country at such times; but she 
was cheerful and untiring, supported by her 
faith in God, for she is one of the truest Christ- 
ians I have ever known. 

“ The scarlet fever is liable to leave one with 
some weakness or ailment. In your case it did 
not; you have grown into a strong, healthy 
lad, but it left poor Johnny with a weak heart, 
that cannot bear any tax upon it. His mother is 
warned by physicians not to allow him to lift 
any burden, not to run, or jump, or climb, or to 
use his arms more than possible, and give her 
the hope that with great care he might outgrow 
it. Johnny, in the meantime, is to be kept in 
ignorance that his heart is weaker, than that of 
other boys. Now you know why your aunt 
spares him all she can, and I hope that you 
will cease to censure her in your mind as you 
have done.” 

“Oh, Miss Fanshaw, do release me from my 


158 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

promise, and let me go to her and beg her for- 
giveness,” implored Horace, with tears of re- 
morse in his fine eyes. 

“No, you must not tell her; it will do no on^ 
any good. But there is a better way. Be kind 
to the dear, patient, saintly little boy, who may 
be called from earth to heaven at any moment. 
Do all you can to help your aunt to bear the 
burden ; do it not only willingly, but cheerfully, 
and ask your Father in heaven to cast from 
your heart all envy and jealousy.” 

“ I will ; I will indeed. Miss Fanshaw, and I 
do thank you for telling me this. I am ashamed 
of myself, and will never, never act toward 
Aunt Graham and Cousin Johnny as I have 
done.” 

Horace kept his word, and Mrs. Graham 
thanked God for his changed manner, and re- 
joiced that he was becoming such help and 
company for Johnny. 

A few weeks after this conversation, Horace 
answered the letter which Leo had written to 
him a short time after his return to the city. 

“Dear Leo,” he wrote, “do you remember 
that you asked me to join the Helping Hand So- 
ciety, and showed me your card, and I would 
have nothing to do with it ? W ell, I must tell you 
that Miss Fanshaw has been my Helping Hand 
Society and card, and when I see you I will tell 


Why Horace Changed His Opinion, 159 

you all about it. And Leo, I never knew until this 
winter what a grand woman Aunt Graham is, 
nor what a splendid boy is Johnny. His good- 
ness has made me see how sinful I am, and 
made me long to be good like him. We are 
such company for each other, and love each 
other so much that I hope nothing will ever 
part us. The doctors say that he is much 
stronger this winter, and, with the same care, 
believe he will be entirely well. 

“And, Leo, do you remember the kitten that 
you and Charlie Watson helped save from 
drowning, and then helped set its broken leg ? 
Well, a few weeks ago little Harry was lost, and 
his grandmother was almost ill from fear that 
he was drowned. The whole village was out 
searching for him, and his grandmother was 
sitting at home crying, when in walked the kit- 
ten, nearly a grown cat now, and looked up in 
her face, and mewed, as much as to say, ‘ don’t 
cry, I know where your little Harry is, follow 
me,’ and then ran to the door. She did fol- 
low, and the kitten took her to the corn field, 
and behind a stack of fodder there was little 
Harry fast asleep. 

“Aunt Graham says that the grandmother 
had her reward, even in this life, for her kind- 
ness to a dumb creature.” 

“ Dear Grandma,” wrote Ellen the next day 


160 Grandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

after her return to the city, “I gave mamma 
the bird and the nest for her birthday present, 
and she was pleased, and said it was not only a 
pretty present and a curiosity, but more than 
all, an object lesson to me. I did not ask 
then what she meant, but to-day I said to her. 
Mamma, I never look at it but I say to myself 
‘ Ellen, never be disobedient, if you are you will 
be sorry like you were all the time the chain 
was lost,’ and mamma smiled and said that was 
the object lesson.” 

“Dear Ellen,” wrote Sally, “you know I 
told you that Cousin Horace was sullen. Well, 
he is not sullen any more, but is one of the best 
boys that ever was, and kind to Cousin Johnny 
who just loves him. And, Ellen, I saved all the 
money that Miss Wood’s father gave me for ar- 
ranging bouquets, and at Christmas bought papa 
a big armchair, and mamma a high-backed 
rocking-chair to rest in when they are tired. 
Your grandma got them for me and kept them 
at her house until Christmas morning. 

“And, O Ellen, I have something else to tell 
you. There is to be a Junior Christian En- 
deavor Society of the scholars in our Sunday- 
school ; your Aunt Lizzie is to start it when the 
roads get good in the spring, and Cousin Horace, 
and Johnny, and I have put our names down, 
but I will always keep our dear little Helping 


Why Horace Changed His Opinion, 161 

Hand card, although we are to have a bigger 
pledge.” 

‘‘Dear Mrs. Elliot,” wrote Leo’s mother, 
“you remember my telling you in one of my 
letters of Elmer Ware repeating in the station- 
house the words, ‘ What shall I do to inherit 
eternal life,’ and the answer, ‘Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved?’ 
Miss Ashton, his Sunday-school teacher, tells 
me that a policeman who heard him was so im- 
pressed by the words that he had no peace of 
mind until he gave his heart to the Saviour. 
His boys now come to Sunday-school, and are 
in Miss Ashton’s class.” 

“Dear Horace,” wrote Leo, “you remember 
my telling you that Elmer Ware is in my grand- 
father’s office? Well, grandfather thinks so 
much of him that he is helping him to get a 
good education, and he is going to be a minis- 
ter. And I have something else to tell you, and 
that is that last Sunday I showed the Helping 
Hand card that grandma Elliot gave me, to Miss 
Ashton, and she said it was an excellent help 
to keep young people in the right path. Then 
she told me that a children’s Christian En- 
deavor Society was in the church, and asked 
me if I would not like to join it, and Elmer and 
I are going to the meeting next Sunday after- 
noon, and Miss Ashton, who is president of 


162 Orandma Elliot's Farmhouse. 

the Young People’s Christian Endeavor is go- 
ing to introduce us, and when I write next time 
I will tell you all about it.” 

“ Dear mother,” wrote Ellen’s mother to Mrs. 
Elliot, ‘‘ I shall always be glad that the dear 
children had the happy summer with you, their 
hves are now so full of interest. 

“ The little Helping Hand Society you 
formed has proved so dear to them that they 
have joined the Children’s Christian Endeavor 
Society of the church, and are trying to be 
faithful members. 

“Leo's mother, Mrs. Endicott, and I, often 
hear them repeating the good things you told 
them when you gathered them about you in the 
evenings. You have done much to help them 
in Christian living; you are truly a mother in 
Israel” 


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